


The Smile of a Ghost

by theonsfavouritetoy



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU - Modern Setting, Falling In Love, Hurt/Comfort, Learning to trust, M/M, PTSD, Past Abuse, Ramsay is his own warning, Scotland setting, farmer!Jon, vicar!Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2019-01-03 18:20:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 25,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12152205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theonsfavouritetoy/pseuds/theonsfavouritetoy
Summary: Theon wants to escape his past so he moves to the tiny Hebridean Island of Saorsa.





	1. Saorsa

**Author's Note:**

> I made up an Island! It's sooo tiny, it's even tinier than St. Kilda was.  
> And I shamelessly stole the title of this from my absolute favourite author, Phil Rickman. One of the books in the Merrily-Watkins-series is named The Smile of a Ghost. He's awsome! Read his books! :p
> 
> This fic has haunted (ha) me for a long time now and I really hope I can make of it what I had in my mind.

He opens his fingers slowly and lets the phone slide from his palm. He watches as it is swallowed by the waves.  
A new beginning.

Theon shoulders his rucksack and disembarks from the boat. The shipper looks at him curiously.  
"Welcome to Saorsa, lad!"  
"Sho - what?"  
"Saorsa. It means 'Salvation' in Gaelic."  
How fitting.

He looks around the tiny village. A pub, a shop, a village hall and a row of cottages.  
Saorsa. Population: 91  
Nintey-one people who don't know every fucking detail of his life. It's oddly liberating.  
An old Defender stops beside him and a young man leans out of the window.

  
"Hey! You're the new guy renting the Stark's Cottage?"  
"Yeah, how do you know?"  
"Who else could you possibly be? I'll give you a ride, hop in!"  
It's a long time since Theon has done any hopping but he gets in all the same. The young man has open eyes and broad strong shoulders.  
Maybe this isn't the last dump after all, Theon thinks.

He smiles. Smiling is easy, always has been, no matter if there's any reason to smile.  
"What's your name, handsome?"  
He can see how the man gazes at him quickly from the corners of his eyes, looking slightly disconcerted now.  
"Gendry. I work the ferry with Davos when I'm not carting strangers around the island."  
Theon leans back, still smiling lazily.

  
"No worries, love. I'm here for some peace and quiet. You're safe from me."  
Gendry chuckles shortly.  
"I can believe much, but you don't seem the type for peace and quiet."  
"That's a long time ago."  
A silence follows those words until Gendry brakes in front of a small two-story cottage.  
"Here we are. Gilly should be waiting for you."  
Theon gets out and Gendry rolls onward, shouting back.  
"Guess I'll see you around."  
"Can't see how to avoid that _here_ ," Theon mumbles.

Just then the door opens and a young woman with a sweet face greets him.  
"Hello! Welcome to your new home. I'm Gilly, I'm the vicar's housekeeper."  
Theon reaches out to take the offered hand. He sees her flinch, but he's used to that.  
"Theon. Hi."  
"I cleaned the house and Jon told me to stock some supplies, so you should be good for a while."  
Theon only listens with half a mind.  
"Jon?"  
"He's the owner of the Stark Farm."

  
She nods to a group of buildings about two miles in the distance.  
"You can get your eggs there, and when he has them vegetables or a chicken. Anything else, just talk to Jon."  
Jon again. Theon hopes this Jon will be a good little landlord and leave him alone.  
"I'll leave you to it then. Sam, that's the vicar, he'll be round some time to welcome you."  
"No!" Theon nearly shouts it and Gilly looks a bit indignant at his outburst.  
"I mean, ah... no, thank you. That's not necessary. I'd rather be by myself. I'm an agnostic anyway. But thanks... for your help."

  
It's a clear dismissal and Gilly leaves, not without giving him a last curious glance. But that's fine.  
Curiosity is a lot better than the looks of people in the know, pitiful and lusting for intimate details.  
Theon sighs and enters his new retreat.

From the front door he comes directly into the kitchen. On the right side there's a big stove, a dishwasher and a microwave.  
There's also a small fridge and a slightly bigger freezer.  
On the left side he can see a square table and four chairs.  
He continues into the hallway. Left are some narrow stairs leading upwards, right is a bathroom with a washing machine. A shower, no tub. Good.

  
The last room on the ground floor is a spacious living room. To his surprise, besides a comfy looking sofa he sees a large piano in front of the windows. It's very light inside and he could immediately see himself drawing in here, if things were like they used to be.  
The view from the giant window is amazing. The cliffs, and then the sea. Endless horizon. Beautiful.  
Theon goes back to the stairs and climbs them to the upper floor.

  
There's another bathroom, and this one has a tub, but that's fine, he can just ignore that one.  
To the front of the cottage is a large walk-in cupboard, and to the back is the bedroom. It's not quite as big as the living room, but there's a large bed and a rocking chair.  
Another door leads to a tiny room connected to the bedroom. Probably for a child, Theon muses.

He steps to the window. From up here he can see a narrow strip of the beach that must be down the cliffs. It's dusk now and he turns on the light, looking at his reflection in the window.  
Then he presses his face to the cold glass. There's a figure on the beach, staring up at the house.  
Theon switches the light off again and crawls into bed, clothes and all.  
Feeling tired and weary he's still as far from sleep as always.


	2. Grumpy old Scot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip to the village and a trip to the farm

Theon has been here for a week now and he hasn't seen a single soul. There's some guy, a farm hand presumably, with two huge dogs. Theon hasn't seen him, only the dogs, but he can hear him shouting for them when he walks to the cliffs past the cottage. Theon has checked it out, there are some rudimentary steps carved into the rock leading down to a small beach, the one Theon can see from his bedroom window at low tide.

  
He's explored the cottage thoroughly by now. The bookshelfs in the living room are stuffed to the brim with all kinds of books, old hardcovers, flashy paperbacks and the odd children's books. Theon recognizes one of them easily enough. Even if you're not a fan you can't escape Harry Potter when living in London. Or anywhere in the world it seems.

There's no internet in the cottage and slowly Theon starts to be bored to death. What was he even thinking? He should've brought a TV at least. Is there even TV on this island?

  
His pantry was left well-stocked by that Gilly girl, but now he's nearly out of eggs and beans and toast, and that's really the only thing he can make for himself. A trip to the village store is inevitable, so Theon braces himself and walks outside. It's cold and windy and the clouds are ominous looking, but Theon leaves anyways, hoping it'll hold.

It's a long walk to the village, nearly one hour, but the island is undeniably beautiful, scarcely a tree somewhere, mostly a moorish kind of landscape.  
When he comes to the village there are some people out and about and of course they're staring at him. He's probably the first resident not born here. But Theon doesn't perceive their interest as intrusive. He nods to everyone he passes until he comes to the store.

  
He didn't have much hope for it, but to his surprise it seems to stock about everything imaginable. He collects some cans of beans and a couple of sandwich packages. They even have a large selection of microwave menus, mostly Indian cuisine, so he grabs a stack of them as well.  
At the register sits a tiny old woman. From the look of her she must be three hundred years old at least. She gives him a wrinkly smile when he puts his few things in front of her.

"Hello dear! You must be Theon, right? Jon's new tenant?"

Theon almost asks her how she knows his name, but it would be a stupid question really. So instead he gives her his best polite-boy-smile and nods.

"Yes, ma'am. Nice to meet you. I'm sorry... you wouldn't have any eggs hidden somewhere?"  
She frowns at that.  
"You can call me Old Nan, everyone does. About the eggs, hasn't Gilly told you? You get yours from Jon if you don't want to have chickens of your own. Nearly everyone here has, so we don't stock them. Anything else you're missing?"  
"No, thank you, I'm fine."  
"If there is, you can ask Davos or Gendry to get it from Skye. They have Tesco Delivery there a couple of times a week."

After that speech she closes her eyes and seems to fall asleep. Theon stares at her for a second, thinking about waking her, but he dismisses the thought. What could possibly happen out here? He puts down a little more money than he owes and starts back for the cottage.

  
When he gets there the clouds have blackened considerably and he glances at his watch. He doesn't know anything about farming but they should be finished with most things by now, so best get it over with.  
Theon's feet are hurting when he reaches the farm. He's not used to walking long distances anymore.

  
There's no one around outside and just when he catches a shimmer of light from a window next to what could be the farm's back door the clouds open and an almighty downpour drenches him in seconds.  
Cursing under his breath Theon sprints to the door and bangs against it. Just when he wants to knock again, leaning against the door in a feeble attempt to avoid the rain a bit, it is openened and with a surprised yelp Theon topples over, slumping the man behind the door who clearly wasn't prepared for an attack like that. Theon looks down on his victim in shock. Startled dark eyes look back, the other man's face a deep frown and Theon quickly crawls back.

"What the fuck?"  
"Sorry, sorry! I didn't mean to jump you, sorry!"  
Theon offers his hand to the man on the ground but he gets up without taking it.  
"What you're doing here?"  
Now Theon recognizes the voice. It's the guy with the dogs.  
"Hey, I'm Theon. I'm renting the cottage."

  
The dog-guy rolls his eyes.  
"Yeah I know _that_. What I don't know is why you're here."  
Theon thinks he's pretty rude.  
"I'm searching for Jon. He's the boss around here? I need some eggs and was told I'd get them from him. I hope he isn't another grumpy old Scot, you've just filled my desire for grumpiness today."  
Dog-guy's lips twitch at that and he snorts.  
"He's grumpy alright."  
But his features turn back into a frown real quick and he looks at Theon worriedly.  
"You okay?"  
"Yes, why?"  
"Your lips are blue."

Just when he says that, Theon can feel how cold he is and he starts shaking all of a sudden. He wants to say something but even his teeth are chattering now.  
The amusement is back in dog-guy's eyes and he motions Theon to a large oven.  
"Sit in front of that. I'll be right back."

  
He soon returns with a jumper and some sweatpants and a towel, throwing everything at Theon.  
"Here, get yourself dry. I'll go get the good stuff."  
When he comes back Theon has managed to change and sling the towel around his head, which causes another twitchy smile from dog-guy, who's now carrying a large bottle in his hand. He rummages through a cupboard until he finds a sugar tin.

He puts the kettle on the stove and prepares a large mug, filling it halfway with the whisky he's brought. He starts to shovel sugar into it, then adds the hot water, giving the mix to Theon. He knows he's just about to drink hot, sweet watered-down whisky, but he's too cold to care right now. It's nasty for sure but it does the trick and slowly he stops shivering. When he thinks he can speak without biting off his tongue he clears his throat.

  
"Thanks, man. I could've died of hypothermia and not even notice. What's your name? You work here?"  
Now the man is definitely smiling.  
"You could say that. Ah... I'm Jon."  
Theon stares at him, heat rising in his cheeks. Oh fuck. He's called his landlord and egg dealer a grumpy old Scot. Jon rolls his eyes at him.  
"Don't worry, it's funny. I guess I just don't know what it's like, somebody not knowing everything about me."  
Theon can relate all too well.

Jon glances out of the window.  
"Still pouring and it will be for a while. Better stay over for now, lest you catch pneumonia on the way back after all."  
He pours Theon another mug of whisky, this time not bothering with water.  
Theon protests weakly.  
"I think I didn't lock the cottage. Is it safe to leave it like that?"  
Jon looks at Theon like he's just said the dumbest thing ever. Which he probably has. Jon shakes his head and motions Theon to follow him.

When they enter the living room Theon is gobsmacked. A big flatscreen is mounted to the wall with a Bluray Player and a PS3 beneath, and there's a laptop sitting on the table.  
"Wouldn't have pegged you for a playstation guy!"  
Jon shrugs.  
"It's my sister's. I don't play."  
"You've got siblings?"

  
"Yeah, four. Arya - the playstation is hers - is serving in the RAF."  
"Royal Air Force? Impressive."  
"She would've joined the SAS if she could have. The day they're admitting women she'll be the first one to sign."  
"And the others?"  
"Sansa is married overseas to some American. My brother Bran's in a wheelchair. He's at an assisted living facility. He has... he's seeing things and stuff. His mum is living with him."

  
Theon notices how Jon says 'his mum', not 'our mum'. But he just nods sympathetically.  
"And then there's Rickon, he's the baby. The day he turned eighteen he left and since then he's been traveling the world, writing a postcard every couple of months."  
"Your dad?"  
"Died a long time ago."  
"So you got the farm."  
"Yeah. I got the farm."

It sounds like there's something else he doesn't tell, Theon can sense he keeps a close guard. But he's not here to pry so he changes the topic, nodding at the Bluray Player.  
"Got anything good?"  
"Dunno, it's mostly R- my brother's stuff. I only really watch the Football."  
Theon frowns. "How?"  
"Ah... internet?"  
"You've got internet here? On this island?"

  
Jon doesn't seem to understand Theon's surprise.  
"Of course we have it. Here on the farm, in the vicarage and throughout the village."  
"Could I come over with my laptop some time? To watch some videos? I'm so fucking bored."  
"How can you be bored? I know the cottage is full of R- full of books, why don't you read something?"  
"I'm not much of a reader, really."  
"That just means you haven't found the right book yet. Let's see..."

  
Jon gets quite animated at the topic and Theon's heart sinks when he grabs a thick thing off the table.  
"Here, 'The Swarm'. Very specific but thrilling."  
"Jon..."  
"Or this one? It's a fantasy novel, with dragons and magic and all."  
"Jon." Theon's face is a grimace of shame. "I cannot read."

This stops Jon dead.  
"How is that even possible?"  
"I tried, believe me. But everytime I look at a word, the letters start dancing before my eyes and swapping places and I can't make any sense of them. Short words are okay mostly, but long ones... or sentences..."  
"How did you finish school like that?"

  
"I didn't. I'm good at memorizing stuff, so I cheated my way through until I was fifteen and found me some work."  
"What work?"  
"First the odd job, dog sitter, newspaper carrier... and when I was eighteen I became a bartender at the Q."  
"What's a Q?"  
"A queer nightclub in London."  
"Ah. Hm, you must be tired. I'll ready the couch for you."  
Theon watches him, slightly bemused by the sudden change of subject. Jon is clearly uncomfortable and Theon thinks it's hilarious.

"My room is at the end of the hall if you need anything. The loo's the first one to the right. Good night."  
He's practically fleeing and Theon stares after him, shaking his head before slumping down on the couch.  
He'd bet Jon has locked his door.


	3. Peace and Quiet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakfast, Dinner and Harry Potter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Harry Potter. Hardly noticable :)

Theon wakes up to a cloudy sky, but no rain at least.  
A steaming mug sits on the couch table beside him and, remembering last night, he takes a cautious sip. Tea. Strong enough to wake the army of the Dead. He looks down on the sweater he's still wearing. It's too big, but soft and warm.

Theon rubs his temples and groans. Miraculously he doesn't have a headache, but his conversation with Jon is lingering in his head. It's entirely not like him to open up to a stranger like that.

  
Jon is nowhere to be seen but on the kitchen table is a note. Fuck. How mean. Theon takes it. It's actually a very clumsy drawing of a plate and... an oven? Theon laughs. It's supposed to say 'Breakfast in the oven'". He opens the oven door and reaches for the plate inside but quickly jumps back, shaking his hand.  
"Ouch! Fuck! Hot!"

  
Theon looks around for some cloth and spies one. Hanging directly over the oven. Yeah. He sets the plate on the table before him and gapes at the sheer mass of food.  
Two large sausages, two fried eggs, some stripes of crispy bacon, beans, a kind of pancake, black pudding and some grainy stuff he's immediately suspicious of.

  
Theon manages the sausages, one egg and that pancake which is absolutely delicious. He feels really bad about leaving the rest but just when he contemplates how to get rid of it inconspiciously, Jon comes into the kitchen. The frown on his face seems to be a permanent feature, but it deepens considerably at the sight of Theon's plate.

"Something wrong with it?"  
Theon hastens to explain.  
"No, no, it's delicious, really, thank you very much. It's just... I'm not used to eating a lot."  
"Couldn't you try? You're awfully skinny. What?"

  
Jon looks at Theon questioningly, and he realizes he's been staring. Jon's a handsome guy, his hair black and messy, curls dancing around his face, dark eyes, colour altering between brown and black, dark stubble on his cheeks and chin... Not the time nor the place, Theon reminds himself. Peace and quiet, peace and quiet.

  
"Nothing, sorry. Just blanked out for a sec."  
Jon doesn't seem convinced, so Theon continues.  
"I'll better get going. Can I bring your clothes back when I come the next time?"  
"You can keep them. Start of your Hebrides wardrobe." A hint of a smile on Jon's lips has Theon get up.

  
"Okay. Thanks, I guess. Bye."  
"Theon?"  
Does Jon sound amused again? Theon turns back. "Yes?"  
Jon is holding up a box. "Don't forget why you came in the first place."  
Theon accepts the box and leaves. At the cottage he opens it and laughs. Twelve big brown eggs. And a note?

A drawing again, of a house and two plates and a big clock. Seven o' clock.  
He won't go. Peace and quiet.

Ten minutes before seven Theon reaches the farm. He knocks and lets himself in. Jon is mixing something in a bowl, turning around and raising a corner of his mouth. That must be him showing enthusiasm, Theon muses.  
"Wouldn't have thought you'd really come. Dinner'll be ready in five. Have a seat."

  
"Not as if I have much else to do." But Theon says it with a smile, so it doesn't sound too dismissive.  
A few minutes later Jon places a casserole on the table, followed by a tomato salad and some crispy bread.  
Theon groans loudly when biting into it. "Hell, this stuff is fantastic. I haven't seen something like this at the shop, where'd you get it from?"

  
Jon seems uncomfortable for some reason. "Gilly makes it."  
"Bloody fantastic." He doesn't eat as much as he should, although he tries. He can see Jon isn't fooled, though thankfully he doesn't say anything.  
They don't talk much while eating, Theon asks some questions about the farm and Jon answers them. When they're done and Jon has refused Theon's help in putting the dishes away, he turns around.

  
"So what you wanna do?"  
Theon shrugs. "What would you normally do?"  
Jon looks uncomfortable again. "I read."  
Theon smiles at that. "Could you read out loud?"

An hour later they're sitting on opposite ends of the couch, completely engrossed in 'Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone'.  
"Why did I think this is not cool? Don't stop!"  
Jon shakes his head in disbelief.  
"I still don't know how you can go through life without having at least seen the movies."  
"Sheer ignorance. Go on, please. More! More!"

  
Jon smiles his almost-smile again, but he lowers his head and continues. It's nearly midnight when Theon just can't keep his eyes open anymore.  
"Oh wow. We have to stop for tonight, I fear. Sorry for keeping you up so long, it's just... thank you, Jon. Really."

  
Jon puts the book away after carefully marking the page.  
"Actually I had a lot of fun."  
"You could come over tomorrow? For the rest? I think the same book is over there."  
Jon's expression has darkened considerably. "I don't go over there." He makes a conscious effort to smoothen his face again. Theon is curious but he lets it slide.

Jon goes on. "You're welcome to come back here, though, if you like. Dinner time again?"  
"Are you trying to fatten me here? Am I to land on your Christmas table?"  
That has Jon's lips twitching again and Theon wonders fleetingly what it would take to make him laugh for real.  
Jon is still waiting for an answer. "See you tomorrow then?"  
"I guess. Can't get enough of Harry and the gang."  
"Be careful on the way now. Wouldn't want you to stumble off the cliffs before they jump down that trap-door."  
"I'll try not to. Good night."

On his way to the cottage Theon is lost in thoughts. Something is strange. Something is missing, everytime he has interacted with Jon, but he can't put his finger-  
Oh. Theon looks down. Jon hasn't stared. Jon hasn't flinched. Jon hasn't said anything. That's a first.


	4. Lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More Harry Potter and one or two lessons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I write complete shit about reading please forgive me.

"No fucking way!! Quirrell???"  
Theon sits up, interrupting Jon in the middle of the sentence. He crawls over to where Jon is sitting on the other end of the couch, snatching the book away from him.

  
"Give me that! Where does it say Quirrell? Ha, there's the Q! I know that one very well. You're not fucking with me??"  
He groans in frustration as the words are denying him. He shoves the book back at Jon, skidding a bit closer so he can look at the page. If Jon is surprised or uncomfortable about the sudden closeness he doesn't show it.

Instead he starts reading again, slower now, his finger following the lines as he speaks them. He stops at a word and turns his head to look at Theon expectantly.  
"You already know that one."  
"Q. Easy. Must mean Quirrell."  
Jon goes on until he comes to a longer word.  
"What about this?"  
Theon shakes his head.  
"Just look at the first letter. Don't try to see the whole word, just the first letter."

  
"D?"  
"Correct." Jon covers the D with his pinkie. "Now the next."  
"U"  
Jon makes him look at each letter of the word, repeating them all in the end.  
"Now say them like you would, not like you're reciting the alphabet."  
"Du Uh Mm Bu L... Dhumbul.. Wait, Dumbledore!"  
Jon smirks. "There you go. Reading."  
Theon is gobsmacked. "But why haven't I done this before?"  
"Maybe you weren't just interested enough to start again? All it took was Harry Potter to get you going."

Theon leans his head back, laughing in delight. Jon smiles.  
"You'll have to practice every day. And maybe you could then read to me next year? If you're still here."  
"We'll see. But for now - could you go on please?"  
Theon stays were he is, close to the words, and Jon.

Theon wakes up with a stiff neck and something heavy on his chest. It's the second Potter book which they've started yesterday.  
He sits up and stretches thoroughly. Jon is gone, to bed maybe, or he's already up.

  
Theon goes to the loo and upon his return Jon just enters from the kitchen, bleary-eyed and his hair -  
Theon stifles a laugh. It looks like something's nested in there. Jon yawns.  
"Oh, you're awake. Ugh. I think I could do with some more sleeping."  
"Sorry. I kept you awake, didn't I?"

  
"Well, yes. You kinda... fell asleep on me."  
"Shoot, really? Sorry, man... whas it really uncomfortable?"  
Jon's look is hard to describe.  
"Kinda. Don't worry. I'll catch some sleep later."  
"I should go."  
Jon shrugs. "Why? You're coming back later anyways. Want me to put in a movie for you?"  
Theon goes back to sit on the couch. "Got that Harry Potter one?"

  
"Of course. Know what? I think I'll skip out of work today, it's going to rain anyways, and Pyp and Grenn can handle the farm without me for one day. I'm just so tired."  
He goes to put the disc in and approaches the couch. "Scoot over."

Jon is on edge. He's watching Theon more than he's watching Harry and his comrades.  
How he curses the Dursleys and then the Slytherins...  
How he cheers at the Quidditch matches...

  
He's a bit like a child, thrilled by every little thing, losing himself in the scenes.  
When Harry finds Quirrell Theon gasps and jumps, although knowing it would eventually happen.  
When Harry says that line about not really going home, Theon wells up.  
When the credits roll he turns to Jon, a single tear making its way down his cheek.  
It seems like the natural thing to do for Jon, to raise his hand and wipe it away.

Theon looks at Jon with wide eyes, his own hand traveling up to his face. Suddenly he's straddling Jon, kissing him hungrily and open-mouthed and Jon is lost in the sensation.  
Until he can feel Theon fumbling with his trousers. His hand shoots forward and grabs Theon's wrist. So thin. It feels like he could snap it in half with one careless movement.

  
"No." He can see the confusion on Theon's face. "Not like that. Not so fast."  
"But... you want me!" It sounds like an accusation, and with the hard evidence between them there's no denying it, really.  
"I do. Fuck, I'm only human. But we just met - we don't know anything about each other. I don't even know if you really want me."

  
"Wasn't my intention just now a clear enough indicator?"  
"Not really... Was it because you realized I wanted you? Or did it come from yourself? Do you even like me?"  
"Sure. You're nice. And you're handsome."  
"So what? Do you go around and blow everyone who's handsome?"  
Theon casts his gaze aside, doesn't answer. Jon is baffled. "You actually do."

"Did. A while ago. Not since... not the last year."  
"Why now?"  
Theon finally looks up. "Because that's what I do. I fuck. A lot. Lots of people. Because that's what I am. A fucking slut, a dirty whore."  
Jon reaches out, there's pain underneath the hard words. "Who said that to you?"  
Theon doesn't answer, but he doesn't pull his hands away. He sighs.

"I do like you, Jon. I like when you're reading to me. I like being close to you."  
"And where's the rush? Why not get to know each other better? Why take this further until you're sure you're feeling something?"  
The sadness in Theon's eyes is suffocating.  
"What if I can't?"


	5. News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A not so quiet night for both and a walk on the beach

Jon has walked him halfway to the cottage. After a few minutes he takes Theon's hand. Theon says nothing for a while. Only when they come to the parting of the path, one leading to the cottage, one to the cliffs, he finally speaks.  
"I do like that." He indicates their entwined fingers. "See you tomorrow?"  
Jon tries to make his voice sound as calm as possible.  
"Sure. I'm always there."

Back at the farm Jon starts his laptop. When the familiar search bar pops up he enters a name. Theon Greyjoy.  
He spends the whole night on the computer, sleep an impossibility now, reading newspaper article after newspaper article.  
The fingers. How thin he is, how easily exhausted. The paleness of his skin. How desperate for confirmation. What he said about being dirty.

Theon spends the night awake, too.  
Because that's the night he hears it for the first time. Soft music drifting upstairs, something classical.  
The distinct sound of someone playing the piano.

The face of the monster. Jon memorizes it, the cold blue eyes, the cruel mouth, the pitch black hair.  
He prints a dozen pictures of this face, looking at the screen again, the words there.  
Still at large.

Theon creeps down the stairs. The moment he sets a foot in the living room the music stops.  
And the footsteps from above start.  
The dawn finds Theon on the couch, clutching his head tightly. He's going crazy.

At first light Jon climbs into his Landrover and makes the quick trip to the village. He approaches the pier where a man is already, or still, at work, emptying his boat from last night's catch.  
"Davos."

  
The man turns around.  
"Jon! You're up early, lad. What can I do for you?"  
Jon holds out the prints.  
"Can you hand them around? Tormund, Gendry, Old Nan, Gilly... everyone. Everyone needs to know this man. He's dangerous. You're very likely the one who'll see him first if he comes here. Radio me when you see him. I've re-installed the farm's radio set."  
Davos doesn't ask. He simply takes the prints and nods. "Understood."

  
Jon looks out to where Skye would be, invisible in the early morning mists. He really hopes it never comes to that.

 

After the day's work is done, without Jon again - he really needed some sleep - he calls for Ghost and Grey Wind. They follow the path to the cliffs like every day, but this time his feet take Jon to the other side, to the cottage. He hasn't been here since - it's been a long time. Tentatively he knocks and after a couple of minutes Theon opens. Jon stares at him.

  
"Wow. You look awful."  
"Thanks. Wish I could say likewise. Haven't slept a wink."  
It's true. His chin is stubbly, his eyes bloodshot, his hair strangly and pushed back. Even his voice sounds awful, like he's got sand between his teeth.  
"I wondered if you want to go to the beach with me, but if you don't want to that's okay."  
Theon' gaze goes through Jon for a moment, he looks like he'll fall asleep any second.  
"Sure. Hold on."

  
He disappears, returning with the sweater Jon has given him. They walk to the path together where they are greeted by the dogs. Theon hasn't met them yet, so Jon is a bit apprehensive. And when Grey Wind leaps at Theon, Jon is ready to intervene - until he realizes the dog is ecstatic with joy.

He places his big paws on Theon's shoulders, nearly toppling him over, and slobbers his face like he's a long lost friend. Just as he always did with- No.  
Ghost walks up to Theon carefully, sniffs at him and returns to sit beside Jon. That's a much more usual reaction and calms Jon down a bit. He looks at Theon, still trying to stay upright under Grey's enthusiastic kisses.  
"Good boy... nice dog..."

  
Finally Grey has enough and runs along the path, Ghost following suit.  
Theon and Jon go after them slowly, both lost in their own thoughts. When they arrive at the stairs leading to the beach, Theon looks down dubiously. Jon tries to assure him.  
"It's not half as bad as it looks. Come, I'll help you."  
Theon looks down again, then at Jon's outstretched hand. With a sigh he takes it.

It's beautiful down there. They sit side by side in the damp sand, watching the waves roll in again and again. Finally Theon can't stand the silence anymore.  
"I'm sorry. For yesterday. I didn't think it would shock you so much."  
"Shock is a bit... well, maybe I was kinda shocked, a little. It's just... the concept of sleeping with someone I don't love... I guess it's just alien to me."

  
"You kissed me back."  
"I did. It felt good and I wanted to."  
"Does that mean...?"  
"That I feel something for you? Don't tell me you got round to that just now."  
"What do you mean?"  
"I think it was kind of an instant thing, when you dropped into my kitchen like a cut down tree. Seriously now, you didn't notice?"

"Maybe you were too subtle."  
"I can't believe it. I thought I might as well could have my forehead tattooed with 'I like Theon'. Don't laugh!"  
"But it's funny. You know, subtle could be your second name. I would never ever have guessed-"  
"What?"

Jon has turned his head to see why Theon has stopped talking. He's studying Theon's face closely, searching for something Theon isn't sure was ever there in his life, or ever will. But there must be something, because Jon's lips do that tiny smile. And there is definitely _something_ inside him, a flutter in Theon's chest, that has him lean forward and kiss that smiling mouth.

  
It's a soft kiss, chaste, lips pliant but closed.  
It's sweet, and warm, and Theon does it again.  
They stay until the sky grows darker, sharing a hundred of those little kisses, sharing a closeness that's new to Theon.  
When they climb back up, Jon lets Theon go first. One time he trips, but Jon catches him, bracing him up again.  
"You're alright. I got you."

When Theon enters his kitchen that night there's someone already there.


	6. Ghost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A ghost or a hallucination?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There he is, as was to be expected.

The intruder is tall, taller than Theon, and very handsome. Broad shoulders, slim waist. Theon's gaze wanders up to his face. It's somehow still a bit boyish - he can't be older than twenty-two maximum - and vaguely familiar. Big blue eyes with a startled look in them, a shock of auburn curls...

This is exactly the type of man Theon would have immediately tried to get into's pants. If things were still like they had been back then. Now he just stares.  
They talk simultaneously.  
"What the fuck are you doing in my kitchen?"  
Just then Theon's hand finds the light switch and the room is flooded with brightness. There's no one there. Theon is alone.

Jon looks up from his book when Theon barges into the kitchen without even knocking. He looks frightened and for a moment Jon panicks. Has it happened already? He jumps up, grabbing Theon by the arms, making sure he's not hurt.

  
"What is it?? Are you okay?"  
Theon nods, very unconvincingly.  
"I just... dunno. I don't want to be alone tonight. There was..." He stops, his voice trailing off.  
"Something frightened you?"  
"Yeah, I guess. Noises... there were noises in the cottage."  
Jon looks at him closely, he can see there's more to it, but then he just shrugs.

  
"Old houses do make noises. They're like living things sometimes. You wanna stay here?"  
Theon nods, his eyes searching Jon's.  
"Can I sleep with you tonight?"  
Jon looks anguished at that. "Theon..."  
"No! I mean... really just sleeping."

  
The rejection stings, even if he didn't propose anything to be rejected. Jon seems to notice and his voice is soft.  
"Okay then. Go on, get yourself comfortable. I'll be with you in a couple of minutes."

Theon makes his way to Jon's bedroom. It's very tidy, the bed is made and there are lots and lots of books. On the dresser lies something - a photo, face down.  
Five young people smiling into the camera.

  
A tall girl with red hair, a smaller one with the same dark hair as Jon and a fierce expression. Sansa and Arya, Theon remembers their names. The boy in the wheelchair must be Bran, and the baby boy Rickon. Holding Rickon -

  
Theon has a feeling of sudden panic. It's him. The boy in his kitchen. A good ten years younger, but the hair, the eyes... it's unmistakably him.  
Just then Jon enters behind him, stopping dead when he sees Theon holding the picture.

  
"Who's that?" Theon knows his voice sounds strangely urgent, but he can't help it. He needs to know. He turns around.  
Jon has lowered his head, not answering immediately. Theon watches as he chews on his lower lip until he seems to come to a decision.

  
"We'll talk about it now, this one time. Never again after that. You understand?"  
Theon nods. He'd agree to anything to hear who he is.

"It's my brother Robb."  
Theon feels relief flooding through him. It's a real person. Another brother, who was away for some time, maybe they've fallen out and now he's returned, not knowing the cottage is rented.

And he didn't just vanish into thin air, he's just a quick fucker. Theon ponders this new development. Those eyes... His gaze flickers to Jon, lovely Jon who likes him. Shit is getting complicated, he thinks. Couldn't get much more complicated now. That is, until Jon continues.

  
"He's hanged himself three years ago after his wife died in childbirth."  
The words drift in the air between them and Theon has forgotten how to breath. Jon goes on.  
"It still hurts like fucking hell to even think of him and if that's okay I'd rather stop talking about it now."

Theon's mind is reeling. What? A fucking ghost or what? No way. Jon must've mentioned him unconsciously or something, or maybe there's a pic somewhere in the house. And now he's hallucinating because of his insomnia, or that new situation with Jon. Or maybe Ram has just fucked up his brain even more than he'd been aware of. It just can't be real.

  
What's real is the pain evident on Jon's face, so Theon puts the photo aside and reaches out for him. He comes into his arms reluctantly, but with a sigh he buries his face at Theon's neck and Theon strokes his hair softly.  
After a long while Jon looks up at him with red eyes.  
"Let's go to bed. I think we both need some serious sleep."

  
Jon strips down to his shirt and boxershorts and crawls into bed. Theon watches him for a moment, then follows. Jon has curled into a ball and Theon hesitates before he snuggles up to him tightly. Jon doesn't flinch away and slowly he begins to relax a bit. Theon whispers in his hair.  
"Good night."  
"Good night." The answer sounds choked and Theon draws Jon closer, falling asleep with his face buried in Jon's curls.

The next morning he wakes up with one of those curls tickling his face and he tries to blow it away. He feels rested and suddenly he realizes he's slept through the whole night. Well, that's a first. Since last year.

  
The sun is pouring in through the windows and this adds to Theon's elevated mood. As does the sight of Jon, still sleeping next to him, lying on his back. Theon sits up. He watches him carefully, then touches the top of his nose lightly with his finger. Jon wrinkles it.

Theon chuckles to himself and moves to softly poke the corner of Jon's mouth. It goes up, just like Theon knew it would, and then his eyelids flutter and he wakes up.  
"Hey. Time's it?" He yawns loudly.  
"Judging by the way the sun falls into the room about seven."  
This has Jon fully wake up.

  
"Seven?" He grabs his watch from the nightstand. "Ten to seven. Impressive. Are you going native on me?"  
"Never! City boy through and through. What's the country boy up to today?"  
Jon looks at the rays of sunlight streaming in.  
"Seeing as it's fine weather today I'd say we get on with working the peat bog. Haven't cut enough for winter yet."

  
This sounds ominous.  
"So you're... poking around in the peat?"  
"Basically, yes. Want to come along?"  
"Dunno. Can I help?"  
Jon props himself up on one arm and scans Theon thoroughly.

  
"Yeah, why not. Another pair of arms... And it won't hurt you to be out in the fresh air a bit. Get some colour on your cheeks. You're really pale. That is, if you're up for it."  
Theon scoffs at that.  
"Yes, _Mum_. And just so you know, I'm up for anything."  
But Jon only smiles slightly before swinging his legs out of bed.  
"We'll see."


	7. Monsters

Theon curses. Loud. This is bloody heavy work and he feels as weak as a kitten next to Pyp and Grenn. He's only met them today and since then they're snickering at his feeble attempts of lifting the big pieces of peat they've cut. Jon tries to shush them but he seems amused himself.

  
Until Theon trips and falls face down in a huge puddle of bog and who knows what else. Jon looks at him and his mouth twitches, his lips part and then he's laughing. His whole face is lit up and suddenly Theon doesn't care anymore he's dirty and wet and probably smelling horrendously.

Jon's really laughing for the first time since he's known him and it makes him want to jump him, lap that laugh right up. His fingers are itching for a pencil and a sheet of paper.  
Jon helps him up eventually, still grinning.  
"Come on, let's get you cleaned up a bit." He turns around to the other two. "Pyp? One more load should be enough for today. See you guys tomorrow."

On their way back Jon is still looking at Theon every other moment with undiluted amusement until Theon's had enough. "What!"

  
Jon chuckles. "You really look like 'The Thing from the Swamp' or something like that."  
Theon suddenly stops and it takes Jon another two seconds before he realizes. He turns around and is just about to say something when Theon throws himself at him, clutching him tightly and rubbing his body all over Jon's.

He then takes Jon's head into both hands and presses his face to his chest. The attack came so suddenly that it takes Jon a while to break free. He gasps and to Theon's satisfaction he looks nearly as bad as himself now.  
"Thing from the Swamp, eh? Better not look into a mirror then or you'll scare yourself to death!"  
Jon grins at the smugness of his words.  
"Looks like we're both in need of some cleaning now."

Back at the farm Theon strips of his sweater and groans.  
"Ouch. OW. Every part of me hurts."

Jon has taken off his sweater too and wipes his face with it.  
"That'll be a lot worse tomorrow. You should take a nice long bath tonight, soak those muscles. You're clearly not used to physical labour. Theon?"  
He can't hear Jon anymore. His ears are drumming, his mouth is dry and his chest tightens, cutting off his breath.

 

_"Get in there now, good boy. Down on all fours, you know how I want it. Now, do I have to ask again? You know all too well what happened the last time I had to repeat myself. Was it left or right? There, that's a good boy. Support yourself, you're not going to drown. Not yet. Now hold still. Good, good, that's my pet. Have to clean you up for me, wouldn't want to get my cock dirty, now would I. You're such a filthy whore, there isn't enough soap in the world to make you really clean. Come on, pet. Open up. And would you please stop that godawful noise? You're spoiling my fun."_

 

The world comes back slowly and Theon finds himself sitting on the couch, still shaking uncontrollably. Jon is there, next to him. What on earth must he think of him now? Theon can't bear to look at him, but Jon takes his chin, turning his head softly but determined.  
"You better?"

  
Theon nods, still not meeting Jon's eyes. He needs to explain, make up something plausible. Jon's fingers are still on his chin and his voice is firm.  
"Look at me."

  
Theon does. Deep brown eyes are looking into his, darkened with worry and - no. No no no. Theon backs away, a strangled sound escaping his throat.  
Knowledge. He knows. Bloody bastard knows everything. How can he know everything? And still be here? He buries his face in his hands.

  
"How?", he croaks. Jon understands right away.  
"Looked you up on the internet. There's a lot... I still don't understand how they got all that information, all those details."  
It's quiet for a long time until Theon finds the words.  
"Filmed it. Everything. Leaked." He shudders. "How long have you known?"

  
"The night before we went to the beach."  
Theon's head snaps up.  
"Wait. When I... that means, when I jumped you, you didn't know?"  
"No."  
"But on the beach you did?"  
"Yes." Jon sounds slightly impatient and he shifts next to Theon. "Look, I have no idea what you're aiming at with these questions."

  
Theon doesn't even listen.  
"You knew. When you said you feel something for me you knew. Do you pity me?"  
This seems to enrage Jon. "Pity you? No. I'm really sorry for what happened to you and it's godawful and it makes me so angry I wanna scream, but pity?"

He leans forward, catching Theon's shaky hand in his sure fingers, stroking it. His voice is lighter now.

  
"Don't you think you should pity me? Telling a complete stranger I'm about to fall in love with him after he's all but told me he doesn't do feelings."  
This has Theon laugh, but it sounds bitter and angry.

  
"I think we can forget the term 'stranger' now you know every fucking detail of my life."  
A long silence follows these words. Out of the corner of his eyes Theon can see Jon shaking his head.

  
"And here I was thinking you're clever."  
That comes so unexpectedly that Theon forgets to keep his distance and turns his body in Jon's direction.  
"What now?"

  
"I mean that you're actually pretty dumb. I do know everything about that period in your life now thanks to some indiscrete bastards on the web. But that doesn't mean I know YOU. You do realize there's more to you than that time you were held captive by that sicko, yes?"

  
Theon's at a loss. "I still don't know what you mean."  
"Stupid. Wow." Jon is still shaking his head in disbelief. "I. Don't. Really. Know. You. I don't know what's your favourite colour, I don't know how your eyes look when you're really happy, I don't know..."

  
He pauses, blushes, but goes on. "...the feeling of your skin under my hands, nothing about your childhood, your dreams... nothing about how you'd sound if I make love to you..."  
The last part is whispered and he trails off.

Theon speaks carefully.  
"You do know some things."  
Jon's mouth twitches. "I know how your hair smells after you've been caught in the rain. I know you love Harry Potter. You like tatty scones. I know how you look when you sleep. That doesn't sound like a lot."

  
"It's more than anyone else has ever known." He pauses, looking down on their joined hands. "I wish I would've met you before."  
"What would have been different?"

  
_I'd have you laid out under me by now. I wouldn't need you to hold my hand to keep steady._

But he doesn't say it out loud. "I'd have drawn you. Like you looked today when I fell into that puddle."  
"You can draw!" Jon sounds amazed.  
"Could. I was really good at it."  
Jon frowns, softly stroking Theon's remaining fingers again. "Haven't you tried since?"  
"No. How?"  
Jon rolls his eyes, exasperated. "Same with the reading. You don't know until you try." He pulls back and gets up. "Wait."

After a while of rummaging in some other room he returns with a large box, setting it down in front of Theon.  
"That's Sansa's artsy stuff she left behind. See if you can use any of it?"

  
Theon looks up at Jon's eager face and he really doesn't have the heart to disappoint him, so he smiles politely.  
"Thank you. I'll have a look. Better get going now, I really need a shower."

  
Jon shuffles a bit. "Look. I have a lot of stuff to get on with the farm and everything, but how 'bout you join me for a visit to the pub tomorrow? I'm sure Tormund's fuming by now because you haven't shown your face yet."  
Theon gets up, clutching the box to his chest. He doesn't want to go out, among people, not really. But there's that thought again.

Don't disappoint Jon. So he nods.  
Jon looks relieved, his frown not as pronounced now.  
"Come here at seven again? We can grab a bite to eat before we go, or we can eat something at the pub. Tormund makes amazing fish and chips."  
He walks Theon to the door, seeming a bit on edge.  
"See you tomorrow then. I... good night."

He looks very young in that moment and Theon is overcome by thankfulness that it was Jon who witnessed his episode. Sweet, kind Jon who's falling in love with him.

  
The day has been long and the panic has drained all energy from Theon. But there's still enough left for one thing. He puts the box down carefully and closes the distance between them. Jon looks up at him, the small difference in height seeming more pronounced now. He wraps his arms around Jon's shoulders and kisses his forehead, softly, then his lips.

He meant it to be a fleeting touch, but to his surprise Jon opens his mouth slightly under his kiss and Theon feels sudden heat pool in his stomach. Just then Jon pulls away, that tiny smile Theon likes so much back on his face. He bends down to get the box and places it in Theon's hands.  
"Tomorrow at seven then?"  
"Tomorrow at seven."


	8. Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another visit and a trip to the pub

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Tormund is Ygritte's brother here because why not

After a long shower Theon returns to the living room where he's put the box. He stares at it for quite a while before thinking, why the fuck not?  
He digs through it until he comes up with a pack of charcoal and a thick sketch book. Some sheets are already filled, mostly water colour sketches of landscapes.

"Those are Sansa's."  
The sudden voice has Theon jump, nearly giving him a heart attack. The guy - Robb - again. Damn his dysfunctional brain! Theon is so tired he doesn't even give a shit anymore really. Maybe he can talk to this figment of his imagination and make it disappear.

  
"You don't go around scaring people like this. Didn't you learn that in ghost school?"  
This seems to confuse the boy so Theon goes on.  
"Listen, Robb-"  
"How do you know my name?"  
"Jon told me."

  
Robb's face saddens at the name. "Jon. He hasn't visited me for a long while. Is he mad at me?"  
Theon looks up at him in exasperation. Damn, those eyes... they're now darkened with sadness, but it's still the bluest blue Theon has ever seen.

  
"How could he? Look. I don't mean to be rude, really, but you know you're dead, right?"  
Robb grimaces in pain. "I don't feel dead. Just... strange. And alone. Why am I alone? I was sleeping and then suddenly you were there in my kitchen."  
If he were flesh and bone it would make a loud thump when he lets himself fall down on his behind on the ground, but there's no sound at all.

The ghost hugs his knees and settles his chin on them. He looks like a lost boy. "Who are you?"  
"Theon."  
"That's a nice name. And what are you doing here?"

  
Theon can't believe he has to explain everything to a bloody hallucination. Even if it's a most pretty hallucination. It seems cruel what he says next, but maybe this will put an end to it.  
"I've rented the cottage from Jon after you killed yourself."  
The words seem to be hanging in the air between them and slowly Robb's hands wander to his throat, his eyes wide and glazed over with shock.  
"I remember..."

He's gone. Theon blinks at the space where he'd just been - where he'd just imagined him. Fuck it, he should really try to get Jon into bed. He apparently needs it so bad he's making up handsome ghosts. But his last thoughts before he falls asleep on the couch are of the sad blue eyes and the desperate voice. How lonely he'd sounded.  
_"Why am I alone?"_

Theon wakes up with a name lingering in his mouth. It's that name that has him reach for the sketchbook lying on the table. He grabs the charcoal - it's a lot different than a pencil, he can hold it in his fist. The first few sketches are balled up angrily and thrown to the floor, but after some time he gets the hang of it.

He really should've tried it before. Theon contemplates his own propensity for giving up so easily. Reading, drawing... Living instead of just existing. He tries to draw a face. It's recognizable, but he's not satisfied with the result. So he tries again. He practises all day, filling sheet after sheet with the same face, the same eyes.

When he approaches the farm in the evening, Jon is already out front waiting for him. He's talking to a chubby man with a cheerful face. When he comes nearer he hears Jon say,  
"Thank you, Sam. Everything's ready."

  
Ah, so that's the vicar. He could've guessed. Determined Theon marches over to Jon, kissing him full on his lips in front of the vicar. Jon's face now shows a surprised but appreciative look, the vicar's face is red like a tomato.

  
"Hello there," Theon drawls in his best poofy voice. Jon cocks an eyebrow at this, but doesn't say anything. The chubby little vicar smiles nervously at Theon and extends his hand.  
"Nice to meet you. I meant to welcome you to Saorsa, but Gilly said... Well. Welcome. Alright. Hello. Oh. Oh, I better get going. Gilly... she doesn't like it when I'm late for dinner. Jon, Theon... Alright."

  
He skedaddles to his car and is gone within seconds. They look after him, then Jon turns to Theon.  
"What was that now?"  
"Wanted him to see how the sinner from the evil city has corrupted the lovely country boy already. Will we go to hell now?"  
Jon smirks at this. "You're an idiot. Sam's not like this. Well, he is an old tattletale, so now this will spread across the island in about five minutes and they'll all be staring us down when we go to the pub. If you can live with that..."

  
Theon shrugs. "I can live with that." He indicates the car keys Jon is holding. "Are we taking the car? Don't you wanna drink something?" The thought comes unbidden. _Please, drink something and let me in your bed._  
"I can always leave the car if I really drink too much."  
"Car it is then."

The pub is old-fashioned but comfortable and there are not many people in there. A few old misers nursing their beers in a corner playing chess, that gorgeous hunk Theon met on the first day and two young women who giggle and stare at him while he pretends he's not noticing. Behind the bar there's a huge guy with bright ginger hair and a bushy, fiery beard.

  
"JON!" he roars when they step inside. "Where have you been?" He turns his hairy head towards Theon, indicating him sharply.  
"YOU! New Guy! Finally! Thought you're too good for my little pub, but now you're here at long last. No way past Tormund's pub. What you're drinking guys? First round's on me."

  
It's like a wave washing over Theon and he just blinks, probably looking like an idiot. Jon seems to sense he's a bit overwhelmed and takes matters into his hands, ordering one ale and one cider.

They don't talk much at first, both sipping at their drinks. After a while Jon moves his hand across the table, stopping a few inches before Theon's. He's frowning again and Theon wants him to smile, so he takes the offered hand, weaving their fingers together.

It has the desired effect and slowly Jon's mouth twists into a small, shy smile. Theon commands himself to stop thinking. Whatever this is, it feels nice. Whatever will come of this, this moment is worth it. He feels safe.

For a second Theon thinks of telling Jon of his hallucinations, about the ghost of Jon's dead brother now haunting his cottage and his mind. But he remembers the pain in Jon's eyes when he had to talk about Robb and Theon decides to keep quiet, just letting Jon hold his hand. Curious that he's so cool about it.

"You really don't mind that? In public?" Theon looks at Jon inquiringly, nodding at their hands.  
"Why would I? Do you?"  
Theon snorts. "In London you could wander around sporting two heads and no one would give a damn. I just thought it'd be different out here."

  
"It is. And of course they're surprised. Gendry over there is dying to get me alone to ask if it's really true and what it's like. Curious as a cat. And now his neck and ears are getting red because he can hear me very well. And Tormund is staring at you like an axe-murderer, but that's probably less to do with you than me."

  
Theon cocks an eyebrow. "Why, does he like you?"  
This has Jon snort in his glass. "No way. He's madly in love with that big blonde woman over at Lewis. Only she's still ignoring him. No, he was my brother-in-law for a short time."  
Theon sits up a bit. _What?_ He says it out loud. "What? You're married?"

  
"Was. Got married when we were eighteen and after three years she left. Said she didn't want to bury herself on this, I quote, hellhole of an island for the rest of her life. Divorced me a year after she took off."  
This is a lot of new information and Theon swallows. "She?"  
"Ygritte."

  
"Ygritte. A woman. You're not... are you straight???" Theon wants to pull his hand back, but to no avail.  
Jon nearly laughs. "I think I left 'straight' behind at our movie session, don't you think?" His fingers slowly close around Theon's wrist now, his thumb stroking the spot where his pulse moves under the skin.

  
"Look. I don't know anything about all that. It's not so complicated, for me at least. There's a person that I like, so I want to get to know that person. I want to touch them, kiss them, be around them as much as possible. Boy, girl... doesn't matter. I..." He takes a deep breath. "I love whom I love."

  
His lovely, earnest face reddens at the last sentence and Theon's heart skips a beat. He reaches across the table and catches Jon's neck with his free hand, drawing him over for a long kiss.  
"You're the most amazing person I've ever met." He doesn't voice the rest of his thoughts.

_If there ever was another human being I could feel something for, it'd be you._

  
A coughing sound has Theon turn his head. Tormund is still staring, but now his gaze has softened a bit. Axe-murderer meets Waffles the cat. Theon returns his attention to Jon.

  
"Where's she now? Tormund's sister?"  
"Australia. The wild, wild outback. It suits her."  
"Do you miss her?"  
"Sometimes. She's been a part of my life since we've grown up here together. But she's chosen her way, and I mine. I couldn't leave this place, ever."

Both look up when the door opens and Davos strides in.  
"Tormund. Lads. Jon, a word?"  
Jon mumbles an excuse to Theon and follows Davos outside. As soon as the door behind them has closed, Tormund lets himself fall on Jon's empty seat, making Theon jump.

  
"Listen, newbie."  
"Theon."  
"Whatever. Now. Listen. That boy has had it quite hard most of his life. The nasty cunt of a stepmother, his father's death, his siblings scattered all over the world..."

  
"...and Robb." Theon finishes. Tormund looks mildly surprised.  
"He told you? Good. Aye, and Robb. I don't know you, boy, I don't have anything against you. Just do me - and yourself - a favour. Don't fuck with him. He hasn't fallen for anyone since my little sister upped and left, until you came along. And he's falling hard. And if you cannot reciprocate, stop. Now. Tell him you're sorry and piss off. Got that?"

  
Theon nods. What else can he do when that big bear of a man is looming over him from across the table? But when he answers there's an edge to his voice.  
"I don't know what this is. Not that it's any of your business anyways. I like Jon, and I don't want to hurt him. I think... I think he's worth staying for. That's more than your sister did, really."

  
Tormund leans back, deadly quiet. Theon feels like a bug spiked on a needle under his gaze. Then suddenly Tormund booms with laughter, almost upending the chair he sits on. He gets up and claps Theon on the back so hard he nearly headbutts the table.  
"Good. You're a fierce one. But remember, newbie, I'm watching youuu..."  
Seriously? Theon looks after him as he gets behind the bar again. The guy's definitely crazy. And where the hell's Jon?

"Shit, Davos. When was that?"  
"Two weeks ago. You remember young Cley Cerwyn?"  
"Aye, the one who's moved to Glasgow. Isn't he something at the railway now?"  
"He is. It's a huge coincidence that he's overheard that guy at the station."

  
"And he really mentioned Saorsa? Cerwyn's sure it's the same guy?"  
"He says yes. Which means he's in Scotland."  
"Fuck."  
"Don't worry, lad. We'll sound the alarm early enough for you. Relax. Get some of Tormund's whisky. Enjoy the night, you're young."  
Jon raises his eyebrows.  
"Don't talk like an old grandpa. But you're right. Maybe I will."


	9. Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hallucination gets out of hand

When Jon finally comes back, he shouts something foreign at Tormund before returning to his seat. He looks worried and angry, and Theon doesn't like it a bit.  
"What's up?"  
"Ah... some stupid farming business. Sorry."

  
Tormund arrives with two large whiskies and puts them down on the table. Before he retreats he glares at Theon hard, gesturing at Theon's chest, then at his own eyes. Theon feels his cheeks redden and Jon seems confused.  
"Why is Tormund de-Niro-ing you?"  
Theon shrugs, face still burning. "No idea."

It's the first of many whiskies, for Jon at least, and in the end they do leave the car in front of the pub. Jon leans heavily on Theon on their way home, a lot more drunk than him. It's strange, being the more stable one for once, but Theon likes the feeling. It's nice to care for Jon, not the other way round like all the time.

In front of the farmhouse Theon turns to say good night, only to find Jon leaning against the wall, eyes closed. He looks so pretty in that moment, with his flushed cheeks, tangled curls dancing around his face, full lips slightly parted. It would take a stronger man than Theon to resist such a sight and with one step he's drawn him into his arms, smashing his mouth down on Jon's half-opened lips.

Jon reacts instantly, pressing himself hard against Theon, his mouth opening wider, letting Theon's tongue glide in. He moans and grabs Theon's jumper, pulling him harder into the kiss. His hands are everywhere all of a sudden and Theon breaks away, panting. Jon smiles, a real, wide smile, and Theon would do anything to see him like this again tomorrow. So when Jon whispers into his ear, "Come in with me, I want you", he shakes his head.

  
"Jon. You'll regret it tomorrow. You're wasted."  
"Fucking right I am. Still want you."  
"You want me like that tomorrow morning, I'm all yours."  
Another soft kiss and Theon carefully entangles himself from Jon's grip.  
"I'll see you tomorrow."

Theon is admittedly proud with himself. He's made the right choice, he just knows he has. He feels so good, the surprise is even greater when he's greeted by a very anxious hallucination.  
"Where have you been?"  
Theon bounces back at the accusing tone. "At the pub?"  
Robb snorts. "The pub. I've been looking for you. You weren't here."

  
Now Theon has enough, pretty or not, this is getting out of hand. "Calm down! I was out with Jon."  
"Jon. How is he?" Robb looks sad again.  
Theon grins affectionately at the memory of drunk Jon. "Completely stuffed right now."  
But Robb scowls. "Something must be bugging him then. He only gets wasted when something's wrong."

  
"Couldn't say that. Things are... pretty good right now."  
He has to hand it to him, Robb is a very perceptive ghost, for he jumps on that immediately. He seems angry, straightening to full height.  
"Are you saying you're fucking my brother??? While I'm stuck here??"

Theon is taken aback.  
"Whoa, calm down, man. First, you weren't even here when I left, I have no idea how to 'call you' or whatever." He throws his hands up in an exasperated gesture. "Why am I even defending myself to a bloody hallucination?"  
 And suddenly all the anger flows from Robb's features and Theon is shocked to see him cry.  
"I'm real. I don't know why I'm here, but I'm real."  
Theon reaches out, he wants to hug him, comfort him... but his hands only meet cold air. _Not real._

His dreams that night are haunted by Robb. And the nature of that dreams... Theon wakes up sweating and he climbs into the shower still half-asleep. And half-hard. This really gets complicated, he thinks while he takes his cock in his hand. He starts slowly, trying to think of Jon's face the night before, but blue eyes keep pushing in front of the brown ones and his movements become faster, until he tilts his head back, crying out silently at his release.

  
"What you doing?"  
"Damn!!!!" Theon hits his head hard on the shower wall while frantically scrambling for a towel. "Have you never heard of privacy??"  
Robb doesn't even look ashamed, he rakes his gaze over Theon's body and smiles. "Nice." Then he frowns slightly. "Where'd you get those scars?"

  
"Stop looking at me like this or I'll have to start again. Oh my god, I'm turned on by something that sprouts from my cracked brain!"  
"Where'd you get those scars?"  
Theon sighs in frustration. "You're repeating yourself. Can't you just, I don't know, go and rattle some chains in a castle or something like that?"

  
The ghost scoffs. "I can't leave. I'm always here, whenever I wake up. Or whatever it is I do. I somehow feel like I'm searching for something, something important... but I can't remember what. Or why. The only thing I know is that when I started searching I found you."

There's a knock on the front door and it startles Theon. He finds it hard to break away from the ghost's eyes. They're sad again.  
"And there is my brother, coming to get you. I'll wait here."  
Before Theon can answer he's gone again and Jon's voice is drifting in from the kitchen.

  
"Theon? You there?"  
He wraps the towel around his waist and takes a deep breath. "I'm here." He comes into the kitchen where Jon is hovering by the door, seeming uneasy.  
Jon's eyes widen when he takes in Theon's appearance and he draws a sharp breath. Theon curses inwardly. Jon hasn't seen him like this before, no wonder he's shocked.

  
"I'll go and get some clothes, would you mind waiting for a sec?"  
But Jon shakes his head. "Not necessary. I mean, yes, eventually. But not now or because of that. I've known 'bout THAT. But, seeing you like this... Damn."

  
He comes nearer, one cautios step after the other, finally extending a hand to brush his fingers over Theon's chest. Theon shudders at the touch and Jon's mouth twitches. Theon bends down, searching for his lips eagerly. He didn't mean the scars. He meant Theon.

  
A growl behind them breaks the spell. Theon stiffens, but it doesn't seem like Jon has heard anything. Theon turns around, and sure, _he's_ leaning in the door frame, arms crossed, looking angry as fuck.

"Could you please not fuck my brother in here? Or at all?"  
Robb comes to stand next to them but Jon doesn't acknowledge him at all. His gaze is fixed on Theon and he seems confused.

  
Robb's voice is soft now, full of longing. "Jon... I haven't seen you for so long. I've missed you so much."  
There's no answer, of course, and Robb turns to Theon.  
"He can't see me. He can't hear me. Why can only you hear me?"  
"Theon?" Jon, starting to sound worried.  
He glares at Robb for a second and the hallucination vanishes, not before shooting him one last hard glance.

"I'm sorry. Sorry. My head... I haven't slept much. You look remarkably well considering the state you were in last night."  
Jon furrows his brows. "It was just whisky. Who gets a hangover from whisky?"  
"Certainly not grumpy old Scots, it seems." Theon grins at the thought of their first conversation. "Do you want to do something today?"

  
"Nah, just wanted to see you. And. Well. Apologize for yesterday. I guess I was very... lewd."  
At that Theon laughs out loud. "You were. And very cute. You can be like that anytime you want." He wriggles his eyebrows suggestively and it makes Jon smile as well.

  
"I have so much to do... I really just wanted to see you real quick. And I wanted to ask you... There's a ceilidh next week, with music and dance and everything, and I wanted to ask if you would like to go there with me? There's a lot of people coming over from the other isles and it's always great fun..."

  
He trails off, not meeting Theon's eyes. It's a strange thing about him, so sure of himself one minute, Jon from the Stark farm, beloved community member and everything and strong as a rock whenever Theon has felt weak the last days. And then there's this Jon, all shy and sweet and -  
"Are you asking me on a date?"  
"I think so. Sorry."

  
"I don't think anyone's ever wanted a date, except for - well, you know. You said something about dancing? I can't dance."  
Now Jon has a mischievous expression on his face. "Jigs and reels and everything. I can teach you. So you'll come?"  
"Do I have to wear a skirt?"  
Jon leans forward, kissing him. "No. But I will. And you know what they say about kilts."  
"You mean about what's under a kilt?"  
"Yeah. And do you know the correct answer to that?"  
"No?"  
"Give me your hand and I'll show you."


	10. Then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flashback time, or how Theon was very stupid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I. Hate. Ramsay.

When Jon has left Theon stands at the kitchen window, looking after him. All that dirty skirt-talk has left him significantly aroused and he's thinking about going back into that shower, when soft music starts to come out of the living room. It's hypnotizing, and Theon follows.

  
Robb is sitting at the piano, his hands moving over the keys. He's not really touching them, but the notes are clear as day to Theon's ears. Robb looks up, cocking his head to the side.  
"Could you not point that at me, please?"

  
Theon looks down. _Fuck._ "Sorry. Wait. Actually, don't look."  
"I can't not look." As if to emphasize his point, Robb looks again. "A ceilidh, huh? They used to be fun. You'll have to dance." He looks AGAIN.

  
Theon curses. "You're a married man, for fuck's sake!"  
This seems to surprise Robb. "I'm married? You sure?"  
"Seriously now?" Of course a hallucination by Theon fucking Greyjoy would be single. "What did you do in this godawful tiny house with NO INTERNET if not fuck your wife around all day?"

  
The ghost actually seems to consider that. "This. Playing. Reading. I never wanted to take over the farm, I just wanted to be me. Here I can. Could." He scans Theon again.  
"You still haven't told me where you got those scars."  
And suddenly Theon thinks, why the fuck not. He should just consider it a self-therapy session, what with him talking to himself anyways.  
"How much time do you have?"  
"As it seems - an eternity."

_Fifteen months before..._

"Hellooo handsome!"  
Theon looks up from the drink he's mixing and smiles his hollowest smile at his least favourite regular.  
"Hey, Ram. How you doing? Same as usual?"  
"That and your phone number."

  
Theon finishes with the drink and starts on Ramsay's Bloody Mary. He puts it in front of him and shakes his head, still smiling.  
"You are a persistent fucker, I'll give you that. Don't you grow tired of me saying no again and again?"

  
Ramsay flashes his teeth and bites down hard on the celery. The crunching noise makes Theon cringe slightly.  
"The prize is worth the hassle in your case. You can't imagine how many sheets I've ruined because all I could think of was your tight little ass wrapped around me."  
He takes a sip from his drink, one drop trickling down his chin. It looks like blood and Theon shudders.

  
"No, I can't. And, quite frankly, I don't want to."  
Another predatory grin. "Come on, sweetling, I'm just teasing you. Just one date. If you don't like it I swear I'll stop pestering you."

  
It's a tempting proposal, to be rid of these unwanted advances for good, so Theon thinks, fuck it.  
"Fine. One date."  
He makes the mistake to look into Ramsay's face then. He's absolutely gleeful, his eyes sparkling with... Theon doesn't want to dwell on it.

  
Ramsay doesn't take any chances. "How 'bout tomorrow then? You have Wednesdays off. I'll take you to my second favourite bar."  
Theon swallows. So soon... ah, best to get it over with and that creep out of his life. "Where do you wanna meet?"

  
Ramsay holds out his arm. "Your phone number."  
He'll regret this, Theon thinks while scribbling the numbers slowly on Ramsay's arm, like the twisted parody of some Highschool movie. Fuck, he's regretting it already.

  
"Til tomorrow then, lovely." Ramsay finishes his drink and gets up, and as always Theon is more than glad to see him from behind. Leaving, that is.

When Theon locks the door after his shift has ended, his phone lights up. A voice message from an unknown number.

"Off already?"

His head snaps up and he scans his surroundings. Another one.

"Aw... aren't you paranoid."

Theon growls and shouts out.  
"Cut the bullshit, Ram. Where are you?"  
His phone pings.

"In your head, at long last."

After that, nothing.  
When Theon crawls into bed after a Long, hot bath, he checks his phone one more time. Fuck.

"Tomorrow 9 pm at the Dreadfort. Don't disappoint me, love."

His voice sounds like when you step on a snail by accident. The Dreadfort. Shit. That's that hardcore gay club Theon has only heard about, but never set foot in. The rumours are too disturbing. Another regular, Loras, had been there once and when he'd told Theon about it a couple days later he'd still been pale and shaky.

  
"Ever read De Sade, Greyjoy? I swear to you, it's like a re-enactment of 'The 120 days of Sodom' with an all male cast."

_Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck._

He wakes up around midday, his heart racing like a train. How on earth has Ramsay figured out not to text him? How does he know?

When the appointment - Theon refuses to think of it as a date - draws nearer, he gets more nauseous every minute. Just this once, he keeps repeating to himself. One evening and he'll be finally rid of him.

The gorilla at the door nods him inside immediately, which is quite strange, but Theon doesn't complain. The sooner he's in the sooner he can be out again. Once fully inside he looks around in disgusted disbelief. The whole thing looks like a medieval torture chamber. Some scantly clad guy with a dog collar approaches him.

  
"Master Ramsay is waiting for you. If you follow me, Sir?"  
Holy fucking hell.  
He's led into a private room or cell or whatever, where Ramsay is... holding court, there's really no other way to describe it. Some guys and even a girl, tightly curled up against Ramsay's side.

They all look at him with equal disinterest, but Ramsay laughs happily upon spotting Theon. The sound makes him wanna run away. Ramsay claps the girl on the backside.  
"Off with you, my friends. I'm having a date."  
He offers Theon a beer from a cooler on the ground. Theon pops the lid off and holds the bottle up.  
"Cheers."

He wakes up in the morning with the headache of a lifetime, lying on his couch. His throat hurts, his ass hurts, his whole body is agony. There are purple blotches all over his arms and wrists and he feels sick.  
"Fuck."

  
He doesn't remember a single thing after his arrival there yesterday, his mind is drawing a total blank. At least he seems to have found home, in whatever state he might have been. Theon drags himself into the kitchen, greedily drinking a big glass of water. Ten seconds later he's hanging over the sink, vomiting so hard he thinks his insides will burst.

After half an hour of lying on the kitchen floor he contemplates to either press 999 or just get it over with and simply die. He manages to get up and stagger to the table, where he finds his phone. There's a new message. A video.  
Theon starts it. At first all he notices is a tangle of limbs and naked skin, then the image becomes clearer and - it's him.

Theon stares at the phone, his mind reeling. The people on the screen - it can't be him, it's not him, it can't be - are doing THINGS that make him want to vomit again. And what's worse - the Theon on the screen seems to enjoy every single one of them.  
The phone drops to the floor.  
"If you don't like it, I won't pester you again. But you liked it. I win."  
It takes Theon a while to realize the voice isn't coming from his phone.

 

_Now...._

"And of course he'd been there the whole time, and that really was just the beginning. Kept me drugged, kept me tied up and had his fun. And for Ramsay fun means knifes, whips and hot iron. And..."  
Here Theon trails off.  
"How long?"

  
Theon jumps at the voice, he's completely forgotten about the ghost now sitting (floating?) next to him on the couch.  
"Little over a month, until I managed to get out. His father helped him leave the country and went into full oh-no-I've-bred-a-monster-mode publicly. I got some money as a compensation, so that's that. Then nine months rehab."

  
"Have they ever found him?"  
"Nope. He's probably in Argentina by now or something like that, buggering the shit out of the poor people down there. Just hope I was a one-time obsession for him."

  
"I'm sorry." The blue eyes flow over with sympathy and it's really all Theon needs to suddenly send him over the edge completely. He screams, he cries for the first time since the first night in the hospital after he got away. And although he doesn't touch him, the ghostly presence is oddly comforting to Theon. Strange, what your mind does to help you through such shit.

  
When it's over he feels empty. But also lighter, nearly weightless. Something has changed. Robb is nowhere to be seen at the moment and Theon feels a pang of loneliness at his absence. He really should've done this a lot sooner. Even if it's all in his mind... the feeling of comfort is real.


	11. Torn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theon thinks he's starting to feel something.

Theon doesn't go over to the farm the next day, or the day after. When Jon comes to check on him, he spins some convincing bullshit about feeling sick.  
All he wants to do is spend time in his own mind. And that means being with a ghost.

  
They are talking about lots of things. Theon's childhood, his mother who took him down to London after her divorce from Theon's abusive father and the death of her first two sons. How she went mad when he was just twelve, having to care for her and himself. How he hasn't had any contact with his sister, who stayed with his father.

  
And Robb tells him about his family, how he was the eldest and supposed to get the farm. He didn't want it, so it went to Jon instead, driving Robb's mother to leave with Bran after his father's death. Theon tries to ask him about his wife and child, about his death. But all Robb does is shake his head in a desperate gesture. He doesn't remember a wife, or a child.

He sometimes remembers the feeling of a rope around his neck, and his hands will wander to his throat and he will waver, but he seldomly disappears completely. Sometimes Theon draws. He fills page after page of the sketchbook, and when it is full he puts it on the shelf over the couch. Robb plays and Theon listens. On the third day he even shows him some of the steps for a Reel of Three.

After being sent away for the second time Jon leaves him alone. Theon feels bad about lying, but he needs the time. Time with himself, he thinks stubbornly. Every night he falls asleep on the couch under the solemn gaze of watchful blue eyes and every morning he wakes to the smile of a ghost. Theon feels he could spend the rest of his life like this.

On the evening of the fourth day Robb suddenly stops in the middle of playing. He looks up like he's heard someone call his name. He gets up, makes one step, two. Theon looks after him in shock.  
"Don't leave!"  
Robb turns his head, still being somehow pulled forward.  
"I need to. Someone... there's someone there."  
"NO!!!" It's a helpless scream and it's too late, Theon is alone. He doesn't sleep that night. Robb doesn't return.

Jon wanders by with the dogs in the morning. This time Theon steps out to catch him. While Ghost just gives Theon a disdainful look, Grey Wind rushes past him and into the cottage. He whines and yelps, running up and down the stairs, frantically searching for something. Or someone.

Theon feels like he wants to do the same, but he forces himself to focus on Jon.  
Jon has looked after Grey Wind with a frown, but now he doesn't pay any more attention to the dog's antics. He regards Theon carefully, a worried look on his face.

  
"Are you okay? I've been... I was worried."  
"I'm better. How have you been?"  
"Missing you."  
Theon looks down into Jon's anxious eyes and he could kick himself. Hard. Jon is worried sick about him and he goes and buries himself with a fucking hallucination. Theon makes a silent promise in this moment. No more obsessing over someone that isn't there. No more unhealthy mind tricks.

Jon is real, and here. He can touch him, hug him.  
"I've missed you too." And it's true, now that he's holding him again and murmuring into his silky hair he realizes that a part of him has missed Jon a lot.  
"Come in. Stay for a while."

Jon lets himself be pulled inside, but at the doorway to the living room he stops.  
"I hope you don't mind having the dogs inside? This is strange. I haven't been here since... since it happened."

  
It only occurs to Theon then, to ask the question he's suddenly dreading the answer to.  
"Where..?"  
To his utter relief Jon nods his chin in the vague direction of the village.  
"Churchyard. To be nearer to Jeyne, I guess."  
Just then a sound like a gasp sweeps through the room, followed by a name, like an echo to Jon's words.

  
"Jeyne..." It sends shivers down Theon's spine.  
Jon doesn't seem to have noticed. He's walked over to the piano, regarding the dusty keys with a perturbed expression.

  
"Strange. When I walked past with the dogs the last days I could've sworn I heard music from in here. I even wondered how you could play like that... do you have a Radio or something?"  
Theon slowly shakes his head. Jon has heard music. Jon has heard music Theon is sure exists only in his head. It's too much. He can't think about it now, what it could mean.

  
Jon shrugs and moves to sit on the couch. He's still tense, like the rich aunt on family visit, only perching on the edge.  
"Guess I'm hearing things now. Theon? You okay?"

  
Theon snaps out of his thoughts. Jon. He smiles to himself when he thinks of something, and with one step he's at the shelf, unerringly grabbing a certain book. He holds it out to Jon and when he sees the title he smiles, too. He relaxes back into the cushions and pats the space beside him.

Theon goes to sit down and Jon starts reading. After a while Theon slides down, only satisfied when his head is in Jon's lap and Jon's fingers are carding through his hair. Theon closes his eyes and lets the familiar voice lull him to sleep.

He comes to a bit when Jon starts propping him up carefully, but he's still more asleep than anything while he lets Jon drag him upstairs. He lets himself being undressed like a ragdoll, but when Jon's tucked him in and turns to go he has a surprisingly cognate moment, grabbing his sleeve.

  
"Stay. Please."  
Jon looks at him for a few seconds, then he pulls his clothes off as well and slips under the covers. Theon immediately rolls over and wraps himself tightly around Jon's firm body. Strong arms embrace him and within a minute Theon is out again.

A man with black hair and cold eyes boards an overnight train from Glasgow to Inverness. He scrolls through his phone, pausing at one pic or another for a second. He smiles fondly at one of his favourites. His pretty pet, all curled up against his master's legs. He puts his headphones on and turns to the videos. It's going to be a long train ride and he needs to get some inspiration for their reunion.  
_Soon, pet. Soon._


	12. An Important Question

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FIVE FUCKING YEARS???

Theon wakes up feeling warm and comfortable. Jon is snuggled up to him tightly, one arm thrown over his waist, his leg hooked over Theon's. Jon's face is nuzzled against Theon's neck and now he's awake he feels him breathing hot and tickly against his skin and it makes staying still completely impossible. He wriggles a bit.

Suddenly he becomes aware of something, a hard pressure against his behind - and for a second all he feels is blind panic. He lashes out, desperately struggling to break free from Jon's embrace. His frantic movements have woken Jon and Theon sees confusion, then horror upon his face.

When Jon wants to say something Theon raises a hand, trying hard to calm his heartbeat, his ragged breath. After a minute he's collected himself enough to sink back against the pillows. Jon is sitting up next to him, studying his face intently.  
"Hey... you okay?"

  
"Yeah, just... a stupid moment, some buried memory I think... Sorry. Nothing to do with you. It's okay. I'm okay." He looks up. "Come here."  
Theon reaches for Jon and although reluctant he lets himself be drawn down on his chest. Theon strokes Jon's hair back, letting his finger brush over Jon's lips.  
"You're beautiful when you've just woken up, you know that? Don't look at me like that, it's true."

Jon shuts Theon up with a kiss. Starting soft and tenderly his lips grow more determined soon and tentatively Theon draws his tongue across Jon's lower lip. He's rewarded with a small gasp, then Jon opens his mouth and lets him in, the kiss growing deeper and fiercer at once.

  
Their hands, first only holding each other, become more adventurous and explorative, mapping each other's bodies, getting to know every inch of them.

  
Theon can't get enough of that silky skin. Normally he would've wasted no time and come to the point immediately. But this is different. This is Jon. And Jon is coming undone under his fingers and it's a heady feeling, to be able to make him tremble all over, sigh Theon's name into his mouth, giving himself up fully. He's not shying back from any touch, although it's all new to him, he's so trusting and loving Theon just wants to rip himself apart, anything, to be worth of it.

When he finally decides it's time to move things further and tries to gently push Jon on his back, Jon's not having any of it though. Instead he kisses Theon again, his lips moving down his jaw, sucking at the skin at his throat, licking wet paths down over his collarbones, until his teeth softly graze a hard nipple.

The sensation is overwhelming and Theon doesn't even notice he's manoeuvered onto his back himself. Jon's caresses wander deeper, his tongue dipping in Theon's navel. He's not stopping at any imperfection, he makes them his own, to get to know him as thoroughly as possible.  
A fleeting thought, a memory not buried deeply enough or maybe swept to the surface the last days, a mocking voice.

_"Who do you think is ever gonna want you again? I made sure of that. You're so fucking ugly now, you disgusting whore. Only I want you. Because only I love you, no matter what."_

The proof of how wrong he was is there before Theon and a traitorous tear makes its way from his eye, disappearing in his hair. Jon's lips are on his the next moment, his nimble tongue licking along the path the tear left.

  
"What's wrong?" Jon's whisper is anxious and Theon smiles at him reassuringly, catching his neck and showering his face with kisses.

  
"Nothing. You are amazing."  
Jon kisses him again, an urgent need to his lips now. Then he is gone and Theon wants to open his eyes to see where he went-  
The first tentative lick has Theon open his mouth. The second draws a long moan from his lips.

Then Jon's mouth glides over Theon's length, sucking him into the wet warmth. It's not the most skillful blowjob Theon's ever received, but it's administered with so much feeling and eagerness that it has Theon losing himself in the sensation, not noticing the sounds he makes anymore.

  
Theon's so lost he forgets it's Jon's first time doing this, he doesn't even think of warning him before coming hot and hard all over his mouth and chin.

When he finally stops seeing stars he finds Jon looking at him until he's sure Theon's paying attention before swallowing purposefully. The sight is too much. Theon sits up so quickly he gives himself a headrush, smashing his lips on Jon's mouth again and again until the need to breathe gets unbearable.

Jon pushes him down on his back again gently, stretching out beside him. His hand is working his own cock in fast, strong movements while he buries his head in Theon's neck. Theon wants to reach out but Jon slaps his hand away, his eyes dark with determination. It doesn't take Jon long to spill all over his hand and he lies still, panting heavily against Theon's skin.

  
Jon's face, flushed and deeply relaxed, is the most beautiful thing Theon has ever seen. He pushes himself against Jon, letting his fingers draw lazy patterns on his stomach.  
"Why wouldn't you let me help you?"

  
Jon grabs a tissue from the nightstand, wiping his hand thoroughly. When he's done he turns to look at Theon.  
"I wanted to do this to you. I wanted our first time to be all about you. I wanted to show you how much you mean to me. Besides... I'm not sure how to say this."

  
Theon looks enquiringly and Jon goes on.  
"You know, I don't want to trigger something, make you remember something bad."

Theon knows what he means. And considering his little episode, the short moment of panic when he'd felt Jon's cock against his ass, he can't deny the possibility. Jon's right. There's no need to rush anything. Still...

  
"How long? Since you last had sex?"  
Jon coughs embarrassed. "Ah... five years?"  
Theon nearly jumps out of bed at that.

  
"FIVE FUCKING YEARS???"

  
Now Jon's clearly uncomfortable. "Yeah, since Ygritte left. I haven't been in a relationship since then."  
Theon is completely baffled. "You don't need to be in a relationship to - well, I guess you would. Wait. You had sex the last time, like, five years ago. And now you're taking it slow. For me. Fuck, Jon! I think that's the second nicest thing anyone's ever done for me."

Jon's eyes darken and he frowns slightly. "What was the number one?"  
Theon lies down again, propping himself up on one arm. He tangles his fingers in Jon's curls, marveling at the silky texture, then finally looking down on Jon's serious face.  
"You reading to me."

They stay like this for a while until Jon clears his throat, shifting a bit so he isn't looking at Theon anymore.  
"You know, I promised myself I wouldn't ask you that... but now I think I'm in too deep already. There's no coming back from that. And if you have to break my heart I'd rather you do it while I'm still close to yours."

  
He turns to face Theon again, still not looking at his face. His fingers draw a little x at his chest, right over Theon's heart.  
Theon feels apprehensive. Is he ready for that talk? His thoughts wander back to those last days with - _Stop. Unhealthy._ He nods at Jon encouragingly. "Ask."

  
"Could you? Sorry, from the top. Could you possibly, some day, imagine? Us? Together? Like, for... forever." His voice trembles at the last words and he's still refusing to look up.

  
Theon takes a deep breath. When he answers his voice is sounding... somehow surprised, even to his own ears.  
"I'll tell you what I cannot. I cannot imagine my life without you anymore. I don't know what the future will bring. I don't know if I'll ever be able to love you like you deserve. I... honestly don't think I was ever capable of it. But... if you'll have me, damaged and all, but knowing how much I want to be with you... Can this be enough?"

  
He searches for Jon's eyes, nervous of what he'll find there. And when Jon finally looks up at him it's a whole world of emotions displayed plainly in them.  
"It's enough. It has to be," he whispers before hiding his face against Theon's neck once more.  
Only when his skin starts to feel wet and cool Theon realizes Jon is crying.


	13. Of Kilts and Trews

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanna see Theon in tartan trews, that'd be a sight XD

They tread carefully around each other the rest of the day. Theon because he's still not sure if Jon is hurt, and Jon... maybe Jon's embarrassed or shy after opening up so much.

  
Theon fixes them some beans on toast which has Jon roll his eyes.  
"That all you ever eat? No wonder I could pick you up and carry you around that easily." He pauses for a second. "You know, there's that ceilidh I mentioned? It's the night after tomorrow. If you still wanna go I really should show you some of the dances. There's one that needs three dancers-"

  
Theon interrupts him without thinking. "Yeah, the Reel of Three."  
Jon frowns slightly. "Yes, exactly. How do you know?"  
Shit. He can't very well say, Robb's ghost taught me that one. So Theon just shrugs and mutters something about having heard of it before.

Jon still seems a bit disconcerned.  
"Anyways... we're having a bit of a wilder version of 'The Dashing White Sergeant' out here, and it requires three. Two strong ones and one light one. Normally Gendry and I borrow Gilly for that, but Sam doesn't like that too much."

  
"Sam? The fat little fellow? Don't tell me he likes to dance."  
"You're an ass. And no, he doesn't like it. He always waits for the slower pieces and they're pretty late so he's already tipsy and feeling adventurous and they end up smooching in front of the village hall and then the next day we all get to hear how Sam's cowardice thwarted their magical union because he bailed out at the last second."

  
Theon is amused. "And I always thought the country was boring. Is he really in love with her and all?"

  
Jon smiles fondly. "Yes, since he's got here. But as I said, he's a coward. And Gilly is the most patient woman on earth so she won't ever push him or something. They'll be dancing around each other for years to come. Anyways, he will be happy we don't have to throw Gilly around this time."

Theon makes a face at him. "Are you saying I'm going to replace Gilly then? Am I to take the woman's part?"

  
Jon rolls his eyes. "No, you twat. A Reel of Three can be danced by anyone, three men, three women, or you mix and match. But you are light enough for the twirl part. You'll probably get dizzy, so don't drink too much before that one."

  
Theon ponders that. "Who needs alcohol to get them going when they're hurled from your arms into the ones of that gorgeous eye-candy and back to you again? Certainly not me."  
"Don't take your mouth too full. It's some work to keep the speed and the rhythm going. You won't have time to sigh about anyone's gorgeous arms, you'll just be glad they catch you before you smash into a wall."  
"Ooooh, jealous much, are you?"  
"Twat."

The air between them is much lighter after their banter and before long it's evening and Jon has to go. Theon privately thinks the chickens could make do for another evening with Pyp or Grenn seeing to them.

  
Jon does come back early the next day though, with an old CD-player and a mysterious bag.  
Theon is curious. "Did you bring so many CDs?"

  
"Have a look. My brother Bran is taller than you, but when he left I think he was about your height. This is his old outfit and I thought you could try it on."

  
Theon peers into the bag, but all he sees is checkered fabric. He pulls it out. Trousers. Checkered trousers. He turns to glare at Jon in disbelief.  
"You... want me... to wear... checkered pants..."

  
Jon's eyes are glittering with mirth. "Don't be an idiot. These are tartan trews, your alternative to wearing a kilt. If you don't like a breeze down there."

  
His mouth is twitching and he seems to be enjoying himself so much, all Theon can do is laugh helplessly.  
"Fine. Fine! But only because YOU will be wearing a kilt and I'd wear a tutu if that's what it takes to see that."

Jon is still grinning. "You only wanna know what's beneath, confess! Don't know why, you know already."  
Theon gives him a mock-disdainful look. "Not as much as I would like to, thank you."

He throws his head back in a dramatic gesture. "But don't worry. We'll always have the ceilidh. We didn't have, we, we lost it until you came to the cottage. We got it back last night."

  
Jon chuckles. "You definitely watched too many movies before you came here."  
Theon sweeps Jon in his arms, still in character, and looks deeply into his eyes. "Here's looking at you, kid!"

  
He kisses him then and when he comes up for breath, Jon murmurs something Theon doesn't quite catch.  
"What was that?"  
"Just something in Gaelic."  
"Could you say it again?"  
Jon's ears go red but he does. "Tha gaol agam ort."  
Theon doesn't have to ask for a translation. He just kisses Jon once more.

Jon breaks away, swooning slightly. "Okay. Dance. I'm gonna show you some of the easy ones so you won't just stand around tomorrow. You ready?"

  
"Ready, Drill Sergeant. Wouldn't want to be a wallflower!"  
It's harder than it looks but with the lesson Theon's already had (had he?? really??) and some music to accompany the steps Theon gets the hang of it quickly. After an hour of practising Theon's out of breath and has to sit down. Jon seems unperturbed, not even sweating yet, and Theon thinks it's a little unfair.

  
"Why are you not exhausted?"  
Jon scoffs. "Because I'm used to physical work and I'm used to these dances. I think you should maybe take it slow or you won't get to those strong arms you marvelled about earlier. You'll be dead tired by then."  
"Wouldn't that be a shame... I will be a very good boy and take it slow. I'd say pinkie promise, but... you know."

A knock on the door startles them both.  
"Jon?" Gilly's voice comes in from the kitchen. They go out to meet her and Theon notices she's carrying a basket with something smelling heavenly in it.

  
"Hi guys. Jon, Grenn told me I'd find you here. I left you a couple of loafs in your kitchen. If they're still there when you get back. Oh, and he said I should tell you there's some trouble with the barn roof."

  
Jon looks at Theon apologetically. "I better go before they eat all the bread. Or ruin that roof. I'll come over tomorrow afternoon."  
Gilly gazes after him for a second before turning to Theon.  
"I've brought you a loaf, too."  
He's ecstatic. "Thank you! It smells mouth-watering, I can't wait to sink my teeth into it!"  
But Gilly gives him a stern look.  
"First, we talk."


	14. Spirits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gilly's very perceptive. I imagine her background here a bit more native, in terms of believing in the old ways.

Theon sighs inwardly, then pulls himself together and smiles lightly.  
"You gonna give me the don't-screw-with-Jon-speech?"  
Gilly tuts. "No. Tormund is better at threatening talks than me. I wanna talk about something else."

  
She walks past him into the living room. Theon follows with a weird feeling. She glances around, shuddering delicately.  
"The last time I was here before your arrival this whole place felt empty. Now it's different." She turns to look Theon straight in the face.  
"He's back, isn't he?"

Theon can't believe what he's hearing. _What? How?_ He just stares.  
"I wouldn't have thought you to have the sight. You're not from here. But then again, it's not something you choose."  
"The sight?" Theon's voice is slightly squeaky.

  
"Seeing things others don't. You are, right? You're seeing Robb?"  
"How the fuck do you know????"  
Gilly shrugs. "I just know. I haven't found out yet why now, what about you could have brought him back. Certainly not your charms."

  
She cocks an eyebrow at the last sentence and smiles sourly. Then she goes on.  
"Maybe he was so mad that a stranger from the city comes here and starts shagging his brother that he just couldn't stay dead."  
Theon rolls his eyes at that. "I'm not technically  _shagging_ Jon."

Gilly studies his face. "You feel something for Jon, don't you? Even when you don't know what. Or how to react to that fact."  
It then bursts out of Theon.  
"Fuck this! We're talking of ghosts and lovers? Okay, listen, missy!! I really honestly thought the things I see are just in my head, and then Jon hears the music, and now YOU come prancing along and tell me it's real! Fine. I'm gonna tell you and if you think I'm a lunatic, just say so."  
Gilly sits down on the piano stool and looks at him expectantly. "Go on."

And he tells her everything. How it was just music at first, how he could see him then. And talk to him. Pour his heart out to him.

  
"And I think I really do feel something. For a fucking ghost? A dead man, who killed himself because his wife died? Fuck, I should be institutionalized again. And then there's Jon, and he loves me and I want to love him, but the second he's not with me all I can think of is his dead brother? He doesn't deserve that shit. No one does. Not even I do. And, thank you, I was finally content with the shit going on in my brain, and _only_ my brain, and just happy to be with Jon, and now you tell me it's true? The ghost - he's REAL?? Fuck this!!!"

Gilly gets up, not in the slightest put out at all the shouting and cursing. "You gave me a lot to think about. Try not to, yourself. I promise, I'll figure out why he's drawn to you of all people. See you tomorrow!"

  
Theon's head is spinning. Gilly has been gone for a while until he finally moves to the kitchen to get a glass of water.  
"Told you I'm real."  
Theon nearly drops the glass. There he is, leaning at the doorframe like he's never been gone at all.

  
"You're back." And his stupid heart is beating so fast.  
"I came to say goodbye. I've found her, you know? Jeyne. I remembered. She's waiting for me."  
Theon feels his eyes well up. "So you're leaving for good? After I just found out I'm not imagining you?"

  
"Yeah, I heard that. All of that. And I thought you were clever."  
Theon smiles. "Yeah, I know. Jon said the same."  
"You don't love me. Not really. You're just afraid."  
Theon shakes his head. "I've never felt with anyone like with you. I never could talk to anyone like to you."

  
Robb raises an eyebrow. "That's because you were stubbornly sure that I'm just in your head. No danger of being hurt there. Let me show you something."  
He marches into the living room and to the bookshelf. "There. Damn." He turns around. "Little help? Can't touch that thing."  
He's pointing at Theon's sketchbook, and Theon goes to retrieve it. Robb sighs. "Open it."

Theon does. After the first few water colours of Robb's sister there's his drawings. Jon. Looking at him with those deep lovely eyes from every single sheet.  
Jon frowning. Jon smiling. Jon sleeping. Jon with a book in his lap. Jon with hair like a bird's nest. Jon laughing. He stops at the last one, his fingers softly brushing over the drawing.

  
"See?" Robb's voice rips him out of his thoughts. "You've made most of these while talking to me. Your thoughts were with him even then."

  
Theon doesn't answer. He's completely lost in his mind. Can that really be true? He needs to go, he needs to see Jon. His chest tightens when thinking of how he'll look when he'll see Theon so unexpectedly, how he'll smile at him. How Theon will yank him into his arms and kiss the breath right out of his lungs... He needs to go NOW. His head snaps up.  
"Robb. You have to teach me something. In Gaelic."

He doesn't run, but he still sets a new record for going over to the farm. When Theon reaches the kitchen door he's out of breath, panting heavily. And suddenly, inexplicably, nervous. Everything is dark inside, but the door is open, of course. He lets himself in, going through the kitchen to the living room. Jon's not there, he's probably in bed already.

And Theon's right. Jon is lying in bed, reading a thick book. He's got glasses on and suddenly Theon thinks he'll burst with longing.

  
Jon looks up, genuinely surprised. Then, slowly, he cracks a huge smile.  
"Hey! I was sure I heard someone come in, but I thought it was Pyp stealing the rest of the bread. What are you-" He registers the state Theon is in and sits up, frowning now. "You okay? What-"  
But Theon has already reached him, kissing him so passionately it steals his breath, glasses and all.

  
"Shut up!" Theon pants. "Or no, don't shut up. Say that Gaelic thing again."  
Jon's face is a picture of confusion, but he obliges.  
"Tha gaol agam ort."  
Theon leans forward until his forehead is resting against Jon's, eyes closed. His heart is racing and he's trembling.  
"Tha gaol agam ort-fhèin."

_I love you too._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't think we're done here. There's still someone on that endless train ride from Glasgow to Inverness. ;) Or perhaps he's already nearer?  
> And there's still the problem with what to do with a ghost who doesn't know his way.


	15. Stop!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was very hard to write and THANKFULLY I don't know anything about past abuse and how to live with it.

Jon is staring at Theon, like he can't believe what he just heard. Finally he manages to speak.  
"Is that... is that really true?"  
Theon bends down to press his lips to Jon's neck.

"It is. It took me a while... But I think it's been true for some time now. I just needed... Someone helped me figure it out. Hey..."  
He nudges Jon's nose with his own. "Since when do you need glasses?"

Jon blushes a bit. "Only for reading. Well. When you're not with me. I have lenses."  
"Why would you hide them? I think you look very smart, and very cute. But..."  
Theon carefully takes them off and places them on the nightstand.  
"...we better put them aside for now. Wouldn't want to squash them by accident.."

"Theon..." Jon looks at him, his eyes dark with want. "We need to... you have to promise me something. If you feel strange or if I do anything that doesn't feel a hundred percent right... you have to tell me immediately. When you say stop, I stop. Okay? Don't try to downplay anything just to please me. Promise!"

Theon is so touched by Jon's thoughtfulness it takes him a moment to answer. "I promise. God, you're amazing. I hope it doesn't... I trust you."

With that Theon leans forward to capture Jon's lips in a long, demanding kiss, only breaking it to remove Jon's shirt. His hands caress strong shoulders, glide down over smooth skin to rest on his hips for a moment before continuing down, taking Jon's boxershorts with them. When he pulls him nearer, Jon makes a small protesting noise.

"You're still fully dressed!"  
"Oh. Right." While Theon clumsily sets about to remedy this, Jon stretches out on the bed, watching him.

"If you'd done this striptease that first time when you kissed me, I think I would've been in no position to refuse you."  
Theon pauses with his hands at the waistband of his boxershorts. "Are you mocking me?"  
Jon chuckles, but then his face gets serious. "I'm not. You're beautiful. Come here."

Theon approaches the bed, only to be yanked down by his arm and thrown on his back.  
"What, again? No way you're gonna be doing everything yourself this time too!"  
Jon moves to straddle Theon's hips. "Who said I will?"

The movement brings their crotches together and the sudden friction draws a moan from Theon's lips. Jon bends down and swallows the sound eagerly, all the while slowly rocking his hips. He draws his hot mouth down Theon's throat, flicking his tongue against the sensitive skin, eliciting another moan and an accusing whisper.

"You ARE doing everything again!"  
Jon sits back and huffs in mock-exasperation. "What'll it take to shut you up? Oh, maybe I know something."  
He clambers up to Theon's chest and suddenly his cock is in front of Theon's face, just an inch or so from his mouth. Theon stares for a second, then looks up at Jon.  
"My. I'd never guessed you're such a dark horse. Where'd you learn that?"

"Might've spent some time on pornhub. I thought -"  
Theon cranes his neck just a bit and takes the tip of Jon's cock between his lips. When he slowly sucks more of Jon's length into his mouth, Jon gasps and throws his head back, pushing forward involuntarily.

And although it's nothing like THEN, there's still a split-second of panic surging through Theon's head. He must have made some noise because Jon pulls out immediately, and then his lips are there, kissing him so softly, so loving.

"Give me that cock back," Theon smiles when Jon's lips leave his. And Jon doesn't make him beg, he brings his cock back to Theon's mouth and he sucks it in again, laving his tongue over the tip until he can taste Jon's arousal. He lets go and Jon whines at the sudden desertion, but Theon shushes him.

"Jon. I want you in me."  
"You sure?"  
"Yes. Please."  
Jon looks at his face, eyes searching for something, then he slowly nods and gets up. He's back a moment later with a small bottle and Theon smiles in admiration. "You come prepared."

Jon kneels between Theon's legs, slowly pushing them further apart. His hands glide over the inside of Theon's thighs, up to his cock, and start stroking it with sure movements. Theon keens into Jon's touch, moaning in desperation for more, when Jon's other hand slowly wanders down past his balls. His fingers glide between Theon's arsecheeks and start to go up and down the crack, briefly moving over his hole. Theon stiffens at the touch, he can't help it.

Jon's mouth is on his cock all of a sudden, one of his hands stroking Theon's chest, the other shoving something in his fingers. The lube? Theon looks at it, then at Jon, not quite understanding.  
"You do it yourself. I'll watch."

Jon's voice is hoarse with want.  
Theon wants to laugh, but Jon's right, it's the best approach. He slicks his fingers with the lube, nudging them carefully against his behind. Jon is sitting back, his hand slowly stroking his cock, his breathing laboured while he watches Theon prepare himself.

The sight is suddenly too much to bear for Theon, he needs Jon, needs to feel him inside so bad... He sits up, his still slick hand grabbing Jon's cock, rubbing it up and down quickly.  
"Please, Jon." It's a quiet plea but Jon hears it all the same. He lines his cock up against Theon, not pushing yet.  
"Jon..."

He puts a bit more pressure on, until the tip has overcome the resistance. Theon's eyes are screwed shut, he bites his lip. "Stop."  
Jon immediately moves back again, stroking Theon softly. After a couple of deep breaths he nods at Jon. The tip goes in again and Jon groans through clenched teeth. He's still pressing forward ever so slowly until -  
"Stop."

Again Jon pulls out in an instant. He bends over Theon, kissing him, whispering his name against his skin.  
"I'm okay. Please, Jon..."  
Jon's mouth doesn't leave Theon's for a moment when he pushes in again, further this time. Until he's buried to the hilt inside. He cradles him in his arms, panting hard. Theon looks into Jon's eyes.  
"Move."

Jon starts to rock his hips, gentle at first, then faster. His eyes are staring into Theon's while he moves, and Theon can see it, can sense his nearing release. A sob shakes through his body, he cries out.

"Stop!"

It's not fair, he knows it's not fair, Jon can't possibly stop now, he's too far gone. But, incredibly, Jon pulls out with a near inhuman groan. He's on all fours now, hands clenched into fists, trembling so hard the whole bed is shaking.

Theon's chest tightens at the sight. He stopped. For him. He stopped when he asked him to. The sudden rush of pure joy is nearly too much. With one quick move he's pushed Jon on his back, straddling him. Jon looks up in shock, but his eyes glaze over when Theon lets himself glide down on his cock again.

He starts to move up and down slowly, then gathering speed. Now Jon is bucking his hips up everytime Theon comes down and every so often his cock nudges against his prostrate, making Theon see stars. Then Jon gasps and thrusts up so hard Theon has to claw his fingers into Jon's hips to stay on him.

With that last hard thrust Jon spills, and the feeling of it sends Theon over the edge. He grabs his cock and spurts warm white stripes all over Jon's stomach.

He slides off, collapsing next to Jon, covering his lips in a long, exhausted kiss.  
"You are amazing. I don't deserve you."  
Jon's eyes have been closed but at that they snap open.  
"Twat. You deserve the world."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ramsay POV parts coming up some time, but I still think they can't be as hard as writing this.


	16. Farmer's Wife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Calm before the Storm

After cleaning themselves Theon snuggles up to Jon. There's something bugging him and when he finally gets it, he nudges Jon's shoulder.

  
"Jon!"  
"Hmmm?"  
He's already half asleep, but Theon's insistent.  
"Haven't we forgot something?"  
"What you mean?"  
"Shouldn't we have talked about... you know. My health?"

  
Jon turns around, blinking confused. "You didn't ask anything about mine."  
Theon grins self-consciously. "I know, probably should have. But you know, the heat of the moment... And it's a bit of a difference, really. You've been with one person you're whole life and I... well, I was a slut. Before."

Now Jon is fully awake again.  
"I guess if there was something wrong you would've said so. And I guess after your ordeal you've been checked about a million times. And I very much guess this was your first time since then."  
Theon slumps onto his back.

  
"Yes, that's all true of course, and I'm as clean as can be, but you still should've asked. And then you should've asked for proof."  
Jon rolls his eyes. "Don't see why. I trust you. But if it makes you feel better: Can I please see proof that you're healthy? See, done. And now you can stop lecturing me because I don't intend to sleep with anyone else but you in the future and we've established now that we're good."

  
Theon chuckles helplessly at Jon's pigheadedness.  
"That's a matter of principle. But you're right. Only you and me."  
For some strange reason this makes Jon frown rather than smile. "You sure 'bout that? You won't be bored some day?"

  
Theon draws him down on his chest. "Now you're being the silly one. Do you really think - now that I finally know how it can be, how it feels when you're loved, to be able to return that - that I'll go and throw it all overboard for some meaningless sex? What was it again? Tha gaol agam ort? I love you, Jon."

  
Jon looks curious. "You never said who taught you that."  
Theon just smiles. No need to freak him out.  
"A friend."

Theon wakes up alone in the morning. Jon is already out and about and there's another huge plate of breakfast waiting for Theon.

  
"Try the haggis."  
Theon turns around to where Jon is standing in the door, a bowl of eggs in his arms. "Haggis?"  
Jon comes over and points it out. It's the suspicious looking grainy stuff he didn't even want to touch the first time.  
"It's sheep innards, cooked in sheep stomach."  
Theon pales a bit at that. "Ah... I think I'll pass on that one, thank you."

  
Jon grins. "It's not so bad. I'll make you a chicken balmoral some time, that's a grilled chicken on a bed of haggis in a whisky-cream-sauce."  
"That doesn't sound too bad actually."  
Jon sets the bowl down so he can hug Theon and plant a kiss on his head. "We'll make a Scot of you yet."

Theon spends the day following Jon around, watching him work and asking him a thousand questions.  
"If I'm going to be some sort of farmer's wife I should know the trade, don't you think?"  
Jon blushes at that, a lot. He chews on his lip a while before answering.

  
"Do you think you would like to move your stuff over here?"  
He looks nervous and Theon thinks it's adorable. And stupid.  
"How 'bout we drive over one of these days? Don't have much stuff to move, shouldn't take long."

  
Jon's smile is so relieved and happy that Theon has to kiss him, and then swat him over the head.  
"Oaf. You really thought after getting me to say the naughty l-word and practically committing I'd still be like Woody Allen and want to live apart from you? I love you. Takes some getting used to. Love you!"

  
Jon is chuckling by now. "Okay, enough. To bed!"  
Theon looks up innocently. "But what about that barn roof?"  
Jon growls. "What barn?"

  
They spend the rest of the afternoon in bed until Jon sighs and gets up. "Damn the ceilidh. I'll really hate to see you getting dressed right now."

  
Theon stretches like a particularly lazy cat. "Those clown pants I have to wear are still over at the cottage. Shall I go get them?"  
Before Jon can answer, Grenn's voice is calling from the kitchen.  
"Hey, lovebirds! Sorry to interrupt, but Davos is on the radio for you, Jon!"

  
Theon thinks it's a bit strange how fast Jon jumps in his pants, not even bothering with a shirt, and rushes out, a worried look on his face.

He comes back fifteen minutes later, his mouth set in a hard line. Only when Theon raises his eyebrows questioningly, his face smoothens.  
"Grenn is going over to get your things. We'll get ready here. Ah... if you're okay with the tub? I don't have a separate shower.

  
Theon swallows but crawls out of bed, feeling very brave. "If you stay with me?"  
Jon goes to fill the tub while Theon watches nervously. Jon turns around.  
"You sure you wouldn't rather just stand in here and shower like that?"

  
"No, I'm fine. You go in first."  
Jon does, his eyes on Theon while he sits back. And Theon takes a deep breath and climbs in. He's rigid and his breaths are shaky, but Jon's arms are there and slowly he relaxes into them.

  
"Oh. _Oh_. I completely forgot how good a nice hot bath feels."  
Jon kisses his ear. "You seem astonishingly composed."  
"I guess? Maybe you drove out the demon, at least for now. I just wish... I really wish they'd catch him and lock him up or something like this. The thought that he could be doing anything like... like... to someone right now... or come back for me..."

  
The last words are nearly inaudible and despite the warmth of the water, and Jon, Theon shivers. Jon's arms tighten around him, his voice sounds flat.  
"He'll never lay eyes on you again."


	17. Ceilidh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what a fucking creep.

They get dressed an hour later. It takes them a while - Theon's fascination with Jon's kilt is endless, and for some reason Jon keeps running to look out the window every couple of minutes. But somehow they make it in time to drive to the village hall.

  
The hall is lit up and there are people everywhere. A band including a bagpiper has already began to play and there's ale and whisky and everyone seems to be so merry that Theon forgets his lots-of-people-aversion for a while. He and Jon enter the hall hand in hand which causes some staring, but no one seems shocked or disapproving.

Gilly comes over to hug them both, whispering to Theon.  
"I see you found out yourself, congrats."  
He looks at her questioningly and she winks. "Such positive feelings where before only misery was left... it must've been irrestistable to him."  
She gazes over her shoulder to where Sam is seated, glaring at them with furrowed brows. "We'll talk more later."

"JON!! NEWBIE!!" Tormund's voice carries effortlessly above the hustle and bustle. He's standing next to the tallest woman Theon has ever seen.

  
"Newbie, meet Brienne, the most gorgeous woman on earth!"  
Theon smiles politely while Brienne is rolling her eyes. Theon sees her look over to another group of people, a golden haired woman with a bitter edge to her mouth and an equally golden haired man, very handsome. 

Probably brother and sister. The man looks up and his eyes meet Brienne's. He seems wistful somehow, Theon thinks. She casts her gaze down quickly, but it's too late, she's flushed all over.  
Poor Tormund. Theon feels sympathy for him. Not a chance while that one's around. Jon is looking at the same people, a slight frown on his face.

  
"I see the Lannisters made it over. Let's hope they keep to themselves. Did Jaime at least bring Tyrion?"  
Tormund crosses his arms and snorts. "Aye. Little monster is probably under some skirt by now."

  
"I most certainly am not."  
The voice comes from behind them and Theon turns, confused. Then he looks down. Oh.  
"Please don't make a dwarf joke or I'll start crying, boo hoo." The small man raises an eyebrow.

"Tyrion Lannister, unfortunate brother of the godly twins. You must be Jon's new lover."  
He reaches up his hand and Theon shakes it. He sees Tyrion looking over to his siblings and notices the woman glaring in his direction. Tyrion doesn't seem to mind.

  
"If you'll excuse me, there's still that feat of finding a suitable skirt to hide under to be accomplished. It's not that easy to find a woman's skirt here."  
He scampers off and Theon looks after him open-mouthed, then at Jon. A shrug and a mumbled "Lannisters" is all he gets.

***

He disembarks from the boat. There are so many people arriving here for that party he thought he might not stand out, but the ferry guy is looking at him with an expression Ramsay doesn't like at all. Ah, he'll deal with this one later. While most of the people are going in the direction of some kind of assembly hall, Ramsay turns to the only shop he can see.  
There's a huge guy stacking the shelves and Ramsay approaches him.

  
"Excuse me. You wouldn't know where on this lovely island I would find Theon Greyjoy?"  
"Hodor." The giant turns around and points to an old bag dozing at the register. When Ramsay clears his throat, she looks up at him with a wary expression.  
"You must excuse my great-grandson. He's a bit simple. You'll find Theon in the cottage on the Stark farm. Hodor, go point the man in the direction."

  
The halfwit obliges and Ramsay sets off. He doesn't notice the old woman closing the shop and hurrying off to the village hall.

***

Theon thinks he's never had so much fun in his life. He's gotten used to the bagpipes by now and it starts to sound like music rather than a bag of cats being hit against a wall. True to his word he's only danced twice so far, once with Gilly and once with Jon, and he hasn't drunk that much.

He IS dizzy though, and out of breath. Jon has just gone to get something to drink when the door opens and Theon sees Old Nan slipping in, making a beeline for Tormund. He's still trying to get Brienne to dance with him and he doesn't notice the old lady until she kicks his shin. Theon chuckles at that, especially when Tormund cries out.

  
"OW!" Then Tormund notices who's kicked him, he bends down and she says something in his ear. He shoots a quick look in Theon's direction, which is odd, then he leaves together with Old Nan. Theon fleetingly wonders if this is the part where they'll stuff him in a wicker cage and sacrifice him to some old gods, but then Jon is back with two glasses and the band announces the Dashing White Sergeant.

Old Nan forgotten, Theon gets up, taking Jon's hand.  
"Now where's that Gendry guy? I'm ready to be hurled into a wall!"

  
Gendry joins them a couple of moments later. He hasn't left out any dance and his short-sleeved polo shirt is clinging to his torso. Theon blatantly ogles him with a lewd grin.  
"Now there's a sight." He turns to Jon. "If the mood ever strikes you for a -"

  
Jon has shut him up with a kiss, slightly biting down on Theon's lip now. "You talk too much." But he smiles and then the dance starts and Theon finds Jon was right.  
He hasn't even a second to think about anything else but the next step. He feels like a dreidel, spun around left and right, bouncing off Gendry's chest, stumbling into Brienne once, being whirled back to his partners with surprising force, then suddenly the music stops and he's in Jon's arms again, feeling giddy and breathless.

Gendry claps him on the back, complimenting him on his performance before disappearing, which has Jon scowl a bit. Theon leans his head against Jon's shoulder briefly, then pinches his cheek, grinning with mirth. "Don't worry, sweetie pie. You are my one and only darling boy." Jon just rolls his eyes.

***

Ramsay reaches the cottage after nearly an hour, slightly out of breath. There's light on inside and he smiles to himself. He knew his pet would be here, not at that party. And there he is, waiting faithfully for the master to come and get him. He hastens his steps, his cock already hard at the thought of how sweet their reunion will be. He'll take something tonight, not sure what.

He needs to remind his pet of its sole purpose in life.  
He chuckles to himself when he finds the door unlocked. Good pet, that's his boy. Making it easy for the master. Maybe he'll spare him the knife today for being so thoughtful.

***

The band is taking a break and someone has turned on some ninetie's music tape. Roxette. Theon lowly sings the lyrics and Jon chuckles.  
"That's actually very depressing."  
"But beautiful. One of my favourite movies."

  
Jon looks up at him with doe eyes, flutters his lashes and says in a mock-sweet voice, "In case I forget to tell you later, I had a really good time tonight.." Theon laughs. "And I watch too many movies?"

  
Then they shut up, moving slowly to the music. Theon looks over Jon's shoulder, biting back a laugh.  
There they are, Sam and Gilly, and you couldn't fit a sheet of paper between them.  
Theon thinks, this place starts to feel like home.

***

Ramsay climbs the stairs carefully. He's positive he's seen light upstairs but now everything is dark. Did he see him coming? Is he hiding? There's a door, the bedroom. He can see the furniture outlined in the dim moonlight from outside. His hands creep over the walls until they meet a light switch. Blinking at the sudden brightness, too bright, Ramsay flinches when he sees a man standing right in front of him. Only it's not his pet.

***

Theon bends down to capture Jon's lips again.  
"I've never felt so good as with you, here, right now."  
Jon kisses him back, then smiles. His face is everything Theon could ever want.

***

This man is a stranger, hard-faced, blue eyes burning with fury. His mouth opens to a snarl and Ramsay involuntarily takes a step back. The man closes in on him and Ramsay takes another step, flinging the bedroom door closed in that furious face. The man walks right through. His hands reach out, going for Ramsay's throat. Ramsay's eyes widen in terror, his mouth opens in a silent scream when he takes another, final step backwards. His foot meets nothing but air and he feels himself falling.


	18. Moor

They're ripped out of their bubble when Davos comes up behind them, placing a hand on Jon's shoulder, murmuring something in Gaelic. Jon's face is serious and he nods. He turns back to Theon and for a tiny moment Theon's afraid of what he sees in Jon's eyes.

  
"I have to go look at something. I'll be back in about twenty minutes."  
Theon wants to protest, but Jon is already gone and after a second Theon finds himself face to face with a red-eyed, sniffing vicar.  
"Huuu... huuuu..." the chubby man howls. "I'm such a coward, why am I such a coward?"

  
Theon awkwardly pats his shoulder, looking to the door to see if Jon is coming back already. He isn't, but Theon misses the cunning look the vicar gives him before howling again to get his attention.

  
"Huuuuuuuuuu..... I'll never be brave enough to tell her, oh what shall I doooooo..."  
Theon tries his best to comfort the sobbing mess before him. When he's finally calmed him down Jon still hasn't come back. He stands up, meaning to go out and look for him when his path is blocked by Brienne.

  
"You wanna dance?"  
Theon doesn't want to be impolite, he just wonders why she would want that all of a sudden. But Jon STILL isn't back so he lets himself be lead around in the most awkward waltz of his life.  
Brienne doesn't talk much but Theon notices the Lannister man is watching them and maybe that's the bait. Fine by him. Where's Jon though?

Jon looks down on the broken figure sprawled out on the stairs. Davos clears his throat.  
"Broke his neck it seems. I dunno... look at his face, lad. Something scared the shit out of him."

  
Jon crouches down, studying the face of the monster. The ice-cold eyes are clouded and broken, his features torn into a horrifying silent scream, his hands forming claws. Jon feels the rage burn up in his chest and he leans forward, spitting on the lifeless body. "Fuck you."

  
He gets up and turns to Davos.  
"You really think Theon needs to see that?"  
Davos shrugs. "I'd say yes. You know, closure and all. He'll never be really himself as long as he thinks _that_ is out there somewhere."  
Jon runs his fingers through his hair, still not entirely convinced, but he nods.  
"Okay. I'll go get him, you and Tormund take... _that_... and we'll meet up at the broch."

Theon looks up from his inquisition by Tyrion Lannister and his face breaks into a huge smile when he sees Jon coming towards him.  
His face is unsure, but he takes Theon's hand, squeezing it so hard it's almost painful.  
"Come with me. We have somewhere to go."

  
Theon follows him anxiously to the car. Jon's acting so strange... He's silent for nearly the whole drive until Theon can't stand it any longer.

  
"Where are we going?"  
"The broch. The old tower ruin, up on the moor." Jon clenches his teeth visibly, clearly beside himself. He glances at Theon for a second. "What's the worst that could happen to you?"

  
Theon swallows, suddenly afraid. He tries to make a joke about it. "Being turned into a bog mummy by you guys." Jon gives a half-laugh at that and Theon decides to be honest. "Losing you."

  
At that Jon's face softens considerably, he stops the car in the middle of the road and draws Theon into his arms.  
"I'm going about this the wrong way. I'm sorry... What's the worst that could happen apart from that?"

  
Theon thinks about it, feeling not a bit reassured. "Ram coming to get me back." He sits up. "Jon?"  
Jon doesn't look at him.  
"Jon, I'm starting to really freak out."  
Jon has started the car again, but his hand finds Theon's. "I'm sorry, I don't want to freak you out. I just don't know how to go about this. I'm a bit scared actually."

Before Theon can answer they stop and Jon gets out. He comes over to Theon's side, taking his hand again. Theon's eyes slowly grow accustomed to the darkness, lit only by a half moon. There's a ruin, a crumbled down tower, looming over them. Apart from that only moor and darkness.

Theon stares at Jon with panic. This feels like straight out of a horror movie, and if it wasn't for Jon, his Jon, Theon would've run by now. "Jon, please. Tell me what's happening."

  
Jon sighs. "I need you to stay calm, okay? I know I've scared you, but I'm really... I'm sorry, I'm repeating myself. I know it's a lot to ask, but please. You need to be brave now."  
Theon doesn't understand, but Jon sounds so urgent that he just nods.

  
"Ramsay."

  
All blood seems to drain from Theon and the earth seems to shift.  
"He came over with the ferry today."  
Theon starts to tremble. _He's here._ Jon rubs his arms, trying to warm him.

  
"The plan was to lure him into the cottage while you're safe at the farm, or today the hall as it was. And then... But when Tormund and Davos got there -"  
"He's here. He's at the cottage." Theon shakes his head, hoping to make sense of it. "A plan? What plan? What plan do you mean?"  
Jon's face is hard. "Our plan. The village. Some from outside are in on it, too. When he ever sets foot on this island... we'll kill him."

Theon stares. His very own little village of horrors. It's endearing, somehow. They must really like him. "You... did you?"  
Jon sighs angrily. "Unfortunately not. He managed to do it himself somehow. Something scared him and he fell down the stairs. Broke his bloody neck."

  
Theon stares right through Jon now. "Robb."  
It's only a whisper but Jon's head snaps up. "What??" His voice has a strange edge to it.  
"Robb killed him." Theon looks at Jon's bewildered face. "I'll explain later. Need Gilly for that." He takes a deep breath. "Why are we here?"

  
A voice coming out from around the broch answers.  
"The moor, lad. Best place for him. He's going to be the boogyman of the next-next generation."  
Davos and Tormund are carrying something between them and suddenly Theon feels sick. Davos studies his face with sympathy.  
"Go on, lad. Take a look. One time and it's done."

  
Theon looks. It's him. But he's dead, undoubtedly dead, and Jon is here. Jon, who has his arms around Theon, his face still showing the shock of hearing Robb's name in this context.  
They watch as the body slowly sinks into the bubbling ground. Theon thinks he should maybe freak out more, being in love with a potential killer and all, but he feels eerily calm. When the body's swallowed whole the world goes black.


	19. Salvation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit on the short side, I know

The first thing that appears in Theon's vision when he comes to is a picture of Jesus Christ on a bicycle. Oh why the hell not, he thinks before closing his eyes again. But now someone is poking his arm, and when he doesn't react it grows pretty insistent.

He turns his head towards that annoying person and Gilly and Sam are looking at him with matching worried expressions.  
"Wha-?" He sits up, looking around. Entirely unfamiliar room. Must be the vicarage. He rubs his head. "Why am I at the bloody vicarage?"

  
Gilly answers. "Jon brought you here. You freaked him out quite a bit with the Robb talk and apparently you said you needed me to explain. Which I did."  
Theon groans. _Where's Jon?_ "Did you tell him, like, everything?" Gilly raises her eyebrows. "You mean all that I-think-I'm-in-love-with-Jon's-dead-brother-stuff? Yeah."

  
"Bloody hell." Sam squeaks a bit at that and Theon rolls his eyes. "Oh please, get over it. Jon isn't here and he's probably furious with me, and apparently he's able to just go and kill someone if needs must, and this whole place is mental including the VICAR for fuck's sake, and a ghost killed Ramsay, and I'll say bloody hell as much as I like, thank you."

  
Gilly pipes up. "I don't think he's furious. Only shocked. It's a lot to take in."  
"And where is he?"  
"Can't you think of the only place where he would want to be after hearing all that?"  
"The cottage."

Jon looks around. This is really a lot to stomach. Everything seems the same as always but now that he knows... he doesn't even know _how_ he's feeling about all that. The thought of his brother coming back somehow isn't hard to believe at all. It's Scotland, after all. And if Gilly says this is it, then this is it. What's really hurting him... why hasn't Robb come to him? He's his brother. He's missed him so much. He says it out loud.

"Why, Robb? Why have you never come to see me? I needed you so much." Suddenly his grief turns into rage and he hits the wall with his fist. "WHY????"

  
"That's why, probably." When he turns around there's Gilly, and Theon. He still looks like he's going to slump down any second. Gilly continues.  
"You're still so angry with him. For leaving. For chickening out. I told you why he came back in the end."

  
Jon looks at Theon then with some hurt. "His _love_ for me. Seriously, that's a bit much. Do I have to compete with my brother's ghost now? He's even the likelier choice when he's dead?"

  
Before he can continue, something flies off the shelf and hits him in the head. Hard. "OW!" He can see Theon chuckling and turns around in disbelief. No one there. Theon comes over, grabbing the thing that hit Jon off the floor. "Last time he couldn't touch anything. But still. Same old method over again. Not very creative."

  
Jon doesn't understand a word. Theon holds the thing out to him. It's Sansa's old sketchbook and now Jon is completely lost. "What's with that?"  
Theon sighs but deigns to explain. "When I had that little... confusion about my feelings, he showed me this. And now he's showing you."

  
Jon takes the book, leafing through it. It's drawings, of him, on nearly every page. There's not one of Robb. He looks up, mouth agape. "You made these?"  
"While stubbornly refusing to recognize what I felt for you, yes. I'm sorry I haven't told you. I just couldn't think of how to begin."

Jon smiles lopsidedly. "I can understand THAT. You must've felt like a complete nut. And, well... if it hadn't been Gilly telling me..."  
Theon scoffs. "I know. She's very convincing."

  
Jon swallows. He must ask. "Is he still here?" Theon shrugs. "I don't see anybody." They both look at Gilly and she shakes her head. "Hard to say with so many different emotions around."  
"And who has thrown that book at Jon?" Suddenly Theon jumps. "Holy fucking hell! Can't you KNOCK????"

  
Jon just stares. Theon is still talking. To someone only he can see. "Wait a sec, just want to confirm something. Jeyne." He turns to Jon. "Chestnut curls, brown eyes, sweet face?"  
Jon nods and Theon exhales in relief. "Okay good. That kinda proves I'm not a nut."

  
Then Theon smiles. "Thanks, you know. For killing that psycho. And also thanks," he takes Jon's hand, "for making me wake up."  
He turns to Jon. "Your brother says you're stupid. And he loves you. Gilly, thanks for the help." Gilly winks at the empty space.  
A low chuckle echoes through the room and somehow they can all hear it.

Gilly sighs. "I'll see what Sam is doing. Probably still beating himself up over how he screwed it again." She looks at Theon and Jon and smiles dryly. "Maybe I'll take a leaf out of your book. Just say it and be done with it. If he gets a heart attack we're at least near the churchyard."

  
When they're alone Theon manoeuvers Jon to the couch. He's still shell-shocked, just staring at nothing in silence. Theon hugs him and slowly Jon starts to relax. After a while he starts to cry.  
It seems cathartic to Theon and he holds him through it.  
When the sun starts to rise Jon has fallen asleep.  
Theon gets up, taking 'Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets' from the shelf. He sits down again and starts to practise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's really it I fear, but there's an epilogue coming


	20. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet Daisy. She's a young woman from Canada who spends the summer on Saorsa to work on her novel.  
> It's the year 2099.  
> These are the emails she sends to her sister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to clarify, the main story is set in 2017

Hey, Sis!  
I hope you're doing well and mom isn't bothering you too much. I'm fine, the weather has been pretty changeable but when the sun is out this place is fantastic.  
I've met with the landlady, an Aussie girl with the reddest hair I've ever seen. Apparently her grandmother came from this island and then came into money somehow over in Oz and bought the whole place. And when the last inhabitants were dead or gone her daughter made it into some wildlife sanctuary. Lots of birds. Must've been a dirty rich grandma.  
The village is pretty much abandoned and time has started to gnaw on the buildings but the church is still in a fantastic shape. There's a nice cemetery that I'm going to explore when the sun comes out.  
I'm lodging at an old farm building which the landlady's family has obtained for some reason. There's another ruin down on the way to the cliffs, must've been some storage building maybe.  
Amazing there's internet out here, isn't it? But I couldn't have come without, need to research a lot of things.  
I'll write again soon,  
Love, Daisy

 

Hey, Sis!  
Joanne (that's the Aussie) has come over today with some supplies for me. She's shown me around a bit, has shown me the place where you used to be able to go down to the beach. When she was a child it wasn't possible anymore but her mother used to go down when she had been here in _her_ childhood. It's strange how time can erode a whole stone staircase, isn't it?  
She also told me that the ruin over there is of an old cottage that they had lived in when the gran took her daughter over here. It belonged to the farm and they were on good terms with the last owner. When the owner was gone, they moved over to the farm and then there was some incident at the cottage and it burned down.  
It's so quiet here. I think the last one to leave was an old woman, Joanne said. That must've been around 2080, so not even 20 years ago.  
I'm really enjoying the peace and quiet here.  
How are your annoying kids? Joking!!! Tell them aunt Daisy said hi!  
Anyways, gotta continue my work.  
Love, Daisy

 

Hey, Sis!  
It's pouring down since yesterday and I was so bored that I started to snoop around and I found the most awesome stuff in some storage room! Lots of boxes with things from the last owners of the farm. For some reason Joanne and her family never got rid of them.  
One of them is full of artsy supplies I'm sure Dave could use very well. Btw how's your wonderful hubby? Still whipped? XD  
There's a sketchbook in here. I've made pics and when I'm having a connection the next time I'll send you the pics. Nearly every sketch is of the same guy, and a very pretty one at that. The eyes are amazingly done and I think whoever made these loved that guy to bits. I think I've spent an hour alone with those drawings, they're so intimate, somehow. Like a glimpse into another life.  
Please tell mom to stop calling, I just get a notification that I have missed calls once the connection is there for a second.  
I write her every single day, so she's got nothing to complain about!  
I'll write again when I've looked in the other boxes.  
Love, Daisy

 

Hey, Sis!  
Still pouring, more boxes. I found a photo today, two guys smiling into the camera. I guess it was made with some sort of of self-timer, it seems to be a very private photo. One of them is the guy from the sketches and the other one has a huge smile and his arms wrapped around the first one. His chin is resting on his shoulder and they look blissfully happy despite the ugly Christmas sweaters. On the back of the pic someone has scribbled, 'Our first Christmas, 2017'

That's more than eighty years ago. It's sad somehow, to think that nothing is left but a few boxes and that pic.  
I'm still here for 6 more weeks, and I'd love to know more about them. Joanne says her mother still knew the guys when she was little but she can't remember their names.  
Isn't that all just fascinating?  
Love, Daisy

 

Hey, Sis!  
Sorry for all the trouble with mom, I didn't think she'd be so stubborn.  
I just found the coolest thing on the bookshelfs in the bedroom! It's a jubilee edition of 'Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince' and on the first page there's a dedication:  
"23rd November 2023 - Remember the first book I read to you from start to finish? Happy Birthday, love. xxTheon"  
So that must be one of the guys then! Isn't it cute? They read to each other! I'm all envious that I don't have a boyfriend who reads to me. Or a boyfriend, period.  
The writing is somehow childlike. I found the same handwriting in a sort of daily schedule book. There's a lot about a 'Jon' so I figure that must be the other guy. Jon and Theon. On one page he scribbled,  
"I hate being fucking old, but at least I'm not fucking old alone." That's really kind of sweet, even with the swearing. I'd guess that's the smily one. Theon. And Jon's the curly guy from the sketches.  
I feel like Sherlock when I'm puzzling all that together.  
Joanne told me to visit the cemetery, apparently there's some great-uncle of hers buried there and she thought I could find some more clues about the guys.  
I somehow feel like I'm starting to know them.  
How's the weather back home? Here it's still rainy and windy.  
Love, Daisy

 

Hey, Sis!  
Yesterday the sun was FINALLY out and I went to see that cemetery and I found them!  
There's a big family grave, the Starks. Joanne said they were the original owners of the farm, but my guys have different surnames. She looked it up for me in some register over at the mainland. Jon was the last owner of the farm, until Joanne's gran bought it all, but Joanne says it didn't change anything with how they were living. Apparently her gran was friends with Jon.  
Anyways, the Stark grave. It starts pretty normal, people dying of old age, but then the last entries are pretty tragic.  
Jeyne Stark, December 31st 1991-December 23rd 2013  
Robb Stark, July 1st 1990-January 2nd 2014  
And their baby boy, born and died on December 23rd 2013  
Then I went a bit to the left and there they are. It's just a small headstone, nothing opulent or showy, and only two names.  
Jon Snow, November 23rd 1991-October 17th 2072  
Theon Greyjoy, April 16th 1988-January 23rd 2073  
And there's something else written on the stone: 'Where you are there is light'  
Seriously, that's so romantic I cried a bit.  
Love, Daisy

 

Hey, Sis!  
I think I'm becoming obsessed with them. I'm visiting the grave daily. There's just something deeply touching about these two.  
And I learned more about their story! I think I'll have to freeze my current project and write about them. Anyways, their story.  
Yesterday when I came to the graveyard there was already someone there, an old woman. She told me she's living in an old folks home over at Skye and lets herself be shipped over every now and then to visit the graves. And she saw me at the guys' grave and told me about them.  
She said they had the most wonderful life once they'd found each other even if it was a bit shitty before, more or less. And she said, she hasn't ever seen two people more in love than them.  
And I cried a bit and she said I mustn't because they're still together and nothing like that can ever really end, which is a bit silly but comforting nonetheless.  
I said, Thank you ma'am, and she patted my elbow (she's _really_ tiny) and said: "Call me Old Nan, dear, everybody does."  
I love you, Sis.  
Daisy


End file.
